


Forerunners of Bosk

by bookscape



Category: Buck Rogers in the 25th Century
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-13 01:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 93,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscape/pseuds/bookscape
Summary: Revenge and survival are the themes of this story that tests our heroes' resolve and determination. It follows Journeys of the Mind. Story is complete...





	1. Chapter 1

Forerunners of Bosk

Buck Rogers, Wilma Deering, Hawk, Twiki and all the rest of the Buck Rogers universe belong to Universal and the Dille estate, and although I have a tendency to treat them all somewhat badly, I will return them in one piece.... I promise. Beros, Ril, LeeGrand and the other heroes and sleezebags are my creations. If you like them, and want to borrow them, please ask me first. BTW, I took great liberties with the name and character of Barney. The only similarity to the Barney in the comic creation is the name, basically. In the original writers’ bible for the TV series, he was a black man. My apologies if my use offends anyone.

“When you’re weary, feeling small  
When tears are in your eyes, I’ll dry them all…all...  
I’m on your side, oh, when times get rough  
And friends just can’t be found  
Like a bridge over troubled water  
I will lay me down  
Like a bridge over troubled water  
I will lay me down  
When you’re down and out  
When you’re on the street  
When evening falls so hard  
I will comfort you  
I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes  
And pain is all around  
Like a bridge over troubled water  
I will lay me down  
Like a bridge over troubled water  
I will lay me down.”  
(Bridge over Troubled Water, Simon and Garfunkel)

Chapter 1 

“Buck, we have picked up a class three distress on a planet named Neckar,” Asimov said. It had been five weeks after the capture of Erik Kormand and they were again doing what they had been commissioned to do. And for the most part, the assignments had been fairly uneventful. Their searches had yielded a small, but thriving non-humanoid settlement on a world that was ninety percent water, and a planet that had been abandoned sometime in a long distant past after some kind of cataclysmic event. Dr. Goodfellow had not come out of his lab for five days after they had taken him the data from the study of the latter world. 

“Any background on this planet?” Buck asked. 

“Yes. Low technology base, but there is some evidence of advanced technology in the not-so-distant-past. Could be one of those refugee ships landed there and then the colonists lost or abandoned the technology,” the admiral replied. 

“If they are sending out a distress, then they are familiar with space going people, at least on a limited basis,” Hawk pointed out. 

“Yes, they do a small amount of trade. Wine, mainly,” Asimov said. “But it’s mostly an agrarian society. No real spaceports, no space technology of their own, although I hear that there is a small but growing movement to join the Galactic Federation.” 

“Well, at least they won’t toss me and Hawk in a pit, or burn us at the stake when our shuttle lands,” Buck quipped, referring to a planet where the primitive humanoids had attacked them after their landing. 

Wilma smiled. “And you are assuming you are the primary candidate for this mission?” she asked, feeling the urge to tease Buck a bit, ‘jerk his chain’ as he called it. 

“Of course. I am the exploration officer, right?” Buck answered matter-of-factly. “And Hawk and I make an excellent team.” 

“Indeed you do,” Wilma said wryly. 

Buck saw the look on her face and was puzzled for a moment and then he thought about the way his statement might have sounded to her. “Uh, we all make a good team, but, uh, well…. We don’t know what’s down there….” His voice trailed off as he realized that he was getting in deeper and deeper. Somehow, he thought there was nothing he could have said that would have changed his predicament. Wilma had that look on her face that meant that she was ready to nail him, just as she had after his comment about her and the moons of Arcadis. Better to just suffer through it and then they could all have a good laugh. 

“And I’m a woman, right?” 

“Oh, no, Wilma, I don’t mean that at all,” Buck protested, trying to keep from getting in deeper. 

Hawk stood back, his arms folded across his chest saying absolutely nothing, knowing that Buck was caught in a snare from which he could not easily extricate himself. 

The admiral looked ready to say something but Wilma began again before any of the men could say anything. 

She laughed. “In this case, you are right. We were going to send you and Hawk down to check this out. Just be careful. Life has dealt us too many surprises lately.” 

“Won’t disagree with you there, Wilma,” Buck said, remembering the incidents on Mendalis. He and Hawk looked at each other and without saying a word they had decided their next plan of action. 

Getting up, Buck lightly kissed Wilma on the forehead and then turned to leave. “We’ll be back before our date tonight,” he promised. 

Wilma smiled, but her eyes held vestiges of the previous month in them. “Just come back. Both of you.” 

“We will,” Buck said. “We always do.” 

============================== 

The shuttle bucked slightly as it passed through the upper atmosphere. Buck studied the instrumentation even as he worked the controls. The turbulence increased as they descended. 

“Point two-two-four degrees starboard, Buck,” Hawk said. 

Buck made the necessary corrections and the ship stabilized, drifting only slightly until they broke from the clouds, then they were caught in cross winds strong enough to make one’s stomach lurch. Again Hawk gave Buck correctional readings and the necessary adjustments were made. “Good thing Devlin warned us about these upper atmospheric anomalies. This would have made one heck of a surprise.” 

“Yes, another good reason for two of us to come on this sortie,” Hawk replied, his reference to a few of Buck’s near disastrous one-man missions quite clear. 

The signal strengthened as the shuttle neared a small clearing in a dense forest close to a small settlement. The winds calmed and Buck landed the shuttle in the center of the clearing with no trouble. After doing long range scans, he checked in with Searcher while Hawk broke out their weapons. As they stepped out of the shuttle, Buck zipped up his jacket. His breath puffed in the bitingly cold morning air. Hawk handed him a fully charged laser pistol, which he slipped into its holster. “It’s that way, north east, a mile and a half,” Buck said pointing. 

“In the settlement?” 

“No, just near it, thank goodness,” the terran said. He was appreciating countryside assignments more and more of late. Sometimes the city excursions got a bit hairy. “Well, let’s go check it out.” 

They followed a narrow path between thick-trunked trees that reminded Buck somewhat of blue spruce, if blue spruce had purple bark and red needles. After about a half hour of brisk walking the two men came upon a cleared and cultivated area, planted with vines on softly rolling hills. 

“Ah, this is what Neckar is famous for,” Buck murmured, blinking in the suddenly bright light. 

Hawk studied the small navigational indicator that he had carried with him. “Through the vineyard, straight ahead of us,” he said. 

Buck looked ahead and thought he saw the rooftop of an older looking, gabled house ahead of him. A small dirt road led in the same direction so they followed it, walking up a small rise. The sky was crystal clear now, a bright blue-green. They topped a rise and saw before them, halfway up the next hill, a large, mansion-like dwelling, old and mysterious. 

“Looks like something out of a gothic thriller,” Buck murmured. 

“That is where the signal is coming from,” Hawk said, pointing. Buck thought it strange that there had been no sign of any people. Nothing looked neglected or abandoned, there was just no one there. “Something unsettling about all this, but there’s nothing else we can do besides go and check it out,” he said, thinking about their experience with the Hand of the Goral. 

Hawk must have been thinking of the same thing. “Do you believe there is some kind of alien power here?” 

“I don’t know, Hawk.” Buck surveyed the area, seeing nothing more mysterious than an old, spooky-looking building. A few puffy clouds galloped across the sky, adding to the benign view of the area, but there was a feeling of something not quite right. Nothing that he could put his finger on, though. “No, let’s check it out.” 

Hawk nodded and they walked side by side along the road that ran between the rows of vines. A slight noise told Buck that Hawk had checked to make sure his laser pistol was loose in its holster. The only other sound was that of a few birds in the distance, insects among the vines and the soft footfalls their boots made in the dry dirt of the road. 

At the base of the stairs leading up to a large porch, the two men paused. The porch was surrounded by a white, wooden railing that appeared to have been forgotten for a few years. Or decades, Buck amended. It leaned, and the paint was peeling. In fact, Buck thought, the whole house had the appearance of former opulence that was now on hard times. A large, oval shaped front door stood open, inviting except for the eeriness of the circumstances. A dirty throw rug lay haphazardly in front of the door. Buck almost expected to see a lazy hound dog crawl out from under the porch, stretching, and slowly approaching to check them out. 

“No weapons, nothing that could be termed dangerous,” Hawk reported after checking their scanner. 

“Any life forms?” 

“Yes, one humanoid and a few non-consequential small life forms, undetermined background.” 

“Hmm, probably the local equivalent of mice,” Buck mused, stepping up on the porch. He walked into the house, Hawk right behind him, the sensor put away and his pistol at ready. They walked through something that looked very much like an old-fashioned parlor. Buck paused and studied a dusty figurine on a small wooden table. The creature it represented was winged and hideously ugly, like a gargoyle. He didn’t touch it, and finally moved into a room that Hawk pointed out as the one where the humanoid was. 

In the next room, heavy curtains lined the walls, not all of them covering windows. It was dark and shadowy and smelled of antiquity and neglect. In the tiny amount of light that the heavy drapery allowed, Buck saw a spider’s web and there was a heavy layer of dust on everything except a table on the far side of the room. 

Hawk touched his sleeve and pointed. In a chair next to the table, sat an old woman. She was human, or at least appeared so, as far as he could tell in the dimness. Her face seemed like cracked porcelain in a swath of light gray hair.

She smiled showing a couple of spaces where teeth had once been. “Welcome. I bid you hospitality,” she said, her voice almost a cackle. Buck almost wondered where her cauldron was. He mentally shook himself of the thoughts of old slasher movies. 

“Who are you?” Hawk asked. 

She laughed. “I am the last of the Brock’s. The very last. Land worked by foreigners now, blast them all to hell. Out of courtesy, they let the old crazy woman stay.” 

Then she stopped so suddenly that Buck felt as though a switch had been flipped. But as he opened his mouth to speak, she began again. 

“What are you two doing here?” And before either of them could answer, her eyes grew large and she burst out, “No! You are here to answer that infernal caller. That thing has been racing in my mind for over four days now.” She cocked her head and gazed meaningfully at them, then she stared at a point beyond their shoulders. 

Buck turned and looked in the same direction, but saw nothing. How could someone hear a sonic subspace distress signal in his or her head, he wondered? She started talking again, this time about her past.

“This was once a beautiful place.” She looked around, her eyes gazing at a portrait hanging on the wall on the opposite side of the room. Buck could barely make out a stern-visaged middle-aged man in a white suit. “Elaser Brock, my husband’s grandfather, God rest his soul. He was a hard man, but he was also a hard worker. He took what his grandfather had bought—twenty units of land and a small house. Worked the land, built this house, made the wine and sold it. Made a name for himself. Brock Wines, the best in the world. Heard before Aherns came in and bought it, that it was known as the best in the quadrant. Elaser Brock was the first to ship the wine off planet. A visionary, he was called. But it’s all gone now.” 

Hawk was checking out the distress device. He looked up and gestured. Apparently there was nothing to determine where it came from. 

“Uh, Ms. Brock,” Buck began, beginning to get a funny feeling about all this.

“Can you imagine? Something simple like an insect infestation. And the Aherns had the means to stop it. They had the poison that knocked them in their tracks.” 

“I’m sorry about your loss, Mrs. Brock, but we need to know who put this device here?” 

“Probably an Ahern. They would sell their souls to the evil one himself if it put a bit of money in their pockets. They even took Barney.” 

Buck couldn’t help it, “Barney?” he asked. 

“Best man I had. Loved Barney. Think he loved me. We both cried when they took him off,” Ms Brock said. 

“Took him off?” Buck asked, puzzled. “Was he your husband?” 

She laughed bitterly. “No, he wasn’t. Although at times I cared for him more than I did my own Edward. I was just his wife. Wasn’t pretty like Julianna, or Winonily or Breesa. No, Edward married me because I was an Ahern. Thought it would make the Brock lines stronger; thought it would keep them from eating us up. They were strong, even then. But it didn’t. They ate us up anyway. We were nothing more than freedols to them. Lots and lots of freedols. I detest my Ahern blood. Ashamed of it. Course Edward wasn’t much to crow about, either.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she ignored them. “Aherns are worth billions of freedols now.” She looked up at Buck and sighed. “You were asking about Barney. Such a good man. Would do anything….” Again she paused and sighed. “Barney was my servant. When the blight worms hit and killed the grapes two years in a row, he was sold along with everything else to pay off the money we owed. And those black-hearted relatives of mine, they swooped in and paid off and took over. Damn them all.” 

Barney was a slave, apparently, Buck thought in distaste. But enough of that train of conversation, he admonished himself “Who brought this machine in?” Buck persisted. “Did they say anything?” 

“Said they were looking for someone. Said this wouldn’t be here long. Wouldn’t take long. Said it was special and I wasn’t to touch it,” she replied. Then she snorted. “As though I would touch something that an Ahern had. Two men, gray uniforms. Little gold and red on the sleeves and collar. Had pistols like you and your feathered friend there.” She peered at Hawk, who had walked back to stand next to Buck. His mouth quirked at her description of him. She smiled at him. “Not making fun of you, friend. You don’t look like anything that an Ahern would be able to push around.” 

Hawk nodded in acknowledgement. Buck suddenly started. The description of the men’s clothing could have been of the same outfit that Erik Kormand had given him before he was captured by the Titan’s crew. “Red trim?” he asked. Then her sudden scream made him jump. 

“You’ve got to go! You have to get out of here! They want you; they want you badly! I feel their hate even now! Strong, sharp, evil, malevolent. Go now! Go while you can!” she screamed. “Go!!”


	2. Chapter 2

“A trap!” Hawk spat out, jerking his pistol out of its holster, even as he turned to reconnoiter. Laser fire blasted several windows at the same time, and Buck leaped toward the old woman, pulling her from her chair and to the ground. 

She cried out indignantly, but the only thing she said before covering her head was, “You should just let an old woman die.” 

“Stay down,” Buck ordered, ignoring her protests. He crawled to the second doorway, one that hadn’t been touched by laser fire. “Hawk, I think they expect an escape attempt here.” 

“We really have no choice, though, do we?” Hawk said loudly as knick-knacks and pictures fell from the walls and crashed to the floor. 

“No, wait,” the old woman said. “A cellar. There’s an entrance to the cellar there.” She pointed to another door, then she cackled. “Told everyone over the years it was just a closet. For coats on infernally cold days like today.” 

Still on his stomach, Buck pulled open the door a crack, seeing that it indeed looked like a closet. 

“In the back. There’s a narrow door. Move the coats,” the old woman said, pointing. 

Hawk dashed over, crouched low, even as laser fire blasted over their heads, raking the walls with bright splashes of searing light. 

“Come on, Mrs. Brock,” Buck said, reaching out to help her. She looked at him appreciatively, but scuttled to the cellar entrance on her own. 

“Surrender!” a voice called from outside, during a slight pause in laser fire. “Surrender and you will not be hurt.” 

“Nuts!” Buck called back, emulating a long dead war hero, even as he was going into the closet. Laser fire erupted again and some of the walls began to blaze. The room crackled with the heat of burning curtains and Buck felt the air being consumed by the fires. As he followed Hawk and Mrs. Brock down the ladder into the cellar, he heard the crashing of the large front door and the voices of men calling out for their surrender. He wondered only briefly as to what was going on, and then he reached the cellar floor. Above him he heard shouts and curses, the crashing of furniture and the roaring of the fire. 

Buck turned to the old woman. “How do you get out of here?” She pointed toward a dark hallway. Only the vaguest bit of light could be seen and that was from tiny cracks in the floor above. He knew the floor would give way before too long and they would be no better off than they were before. “Hawk,” he called out softly. Hawk was by his side in an instant. “If we can get beyond our attackers, we can assault them from the rear.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

Buck turned to Mrs. Brock. “We’re going to try and get past our trigger happy friends out there. Hang on to my arm until I tell you to wait.” 

She chuckled. “Been running through this tunnel in the dark long before you were born, young man.” 

Buck smiled quickly. Things were too serious right now to even comment on that statement. 

She took his hand and led them through the dark tunnel to a set of crude wooden stairs, bypassing several rooms where the smell of vintage wine, musty earth and fermenting juice wafted toward them. Finally she stopped. “Here. This leads to a small storage shed in the middle of the vineyard.” 

“Paranoid group, aren’t you?” Buck quipped. 

“Very competitive business. Has been for years,” she said, “But Aherns finally got it and all they care about is off-world profits.” 

“Yeah, even when those profits come from assassins, right?” Buck asked sardonically. 

“Most likely. Although you two don’t look like you’re important enough for a big operation like this.” 

“We have a few enemies….” 

“We are behind their line, I believe,” Hawk interjected, after checking the shed. 

“Good. Let’s give them a bit of what they’ve been dishing out,” Buck replied getting his mind back to business. Turning to the old woman, he said, “You stay here.” 

“I may look it, but I really am not crazy,” she murmured. 

“I know,” Buck replied, smiling grimly and then he followed Hawk up the stairs and into a roomy shed. He crouched next to his friend and they both peered out through the cracked door. He signed to Hawk, ‘you cover me.’

Hawk nodded and opened the door enough for Buck to slip out. Hawk followed, laser pistol ready. He was able to count a dozen men near the now decimated house. 

Buck signed again and then sprinted down a row of vines toward their attackers, ruing the fact that this was not a cornfield rather than a vineyard. Hawk went down another row parallel to Buck’s row. The attackers were so intent on the house and its presumed contents that they had no idea that danger was behind them until it was too late. With lasers on stun, Buck and Hawk took out a half dozen before any of the enemy realized they were being attacked. With a grin, Buck shot another and then ducked even more as a laser bolt flashed over his head. 

Hawk shot and suddenly all who could be seen were unconscious. “There are probably more. On the other side,” Hawk said softly. 

Buck nodded and sprinted toward the smoking ruins. Quickly, he bent down and examined one of the men, but there was nothing to identify him. Another sprawled nearby and Buck checked him, too. He gasped softly when he turned him over. Despite the non-descript gray jumpsuit, Buck recognized this man. He had been in Kormand’s compound. A minor lieutenant, Landry, he thought. 

“You know him?”

“Yes. Let’s get the woman and get out of here,” Buck said tersely. “Not only was this an ambush, but Kormand’s organization is still alive and well. The Searcher could be in danger.” 

“Seems more like a revenge mission to me, Buck,” Hawk said. “Just as the raid on my people was to kill and destroy, this mission was to kill us.” 

“Or to capture us,” Buck added, remembering the men who had demanded their surrender. “Regardless, we don’t need to stick around and we need to get Mrs. Brock to safety.” 

“It does not surprise me that these people would have such disregard for someone so helpless,” Hawk said. All during this time they were making their way back to the shed, watching for more of Kormand’s men. 

Buck opened the door and had to duck as the old woman swung a shovel at his head. “It’s just me, Mrs. Brock,” Buck said quickly. He glanced at Hawk, “Did you say something about helpless?” 

“Did you get them?” she asked. 

“We got a bunch of them, but there are probably more going through the house.” He paused. “We need to get out of here and get you to safety.” 

“But I have nowhere to go. This is my place, my home!” she protested. 

“Your place is almost a smoldering heap now. We can take you with us to our ship and then find a safe place for you,” Hawk said. 

“I’ll walk with you to your ship, but I am not going to get on it,” she declared stoutly. 

Buck shrugged and then nodded. At least they would be going away from here and they could talk her into going to the Searcher with them when they got to the shuttle. Surprisingly, she was very agile for someone as frail looking as she appeared. And she talked incessantly. As she told of her past, Buck got the impression of a sort of modern antebellum society with a quasi-sort of slavery. 

“If Barney had been here, those evil men wouldn’t have even begun to blow my house apart.” 

Buck didn’t say anything; only let her continue to talk as they retraced their steps back to the shuttle. 

“Barney was a wonderful servant. A wise man for all that he was not in the upper social strata. He was big and strong, bigger than anybody I’d ever seen.” 

They moved through the forest, only slowing when they came to the clearing where the shuttle sat quietly, awaiting their return. Buck turned to try and talk the old woman into coming with them and found her gone.

“Damn!” Buck said. “Let me see if I can find her, Hawk.” 

“Buck,” Hawk said, feeling a sense of urgency. “While I agree that she would be better off on the Searcher, I do not believe she wanted to leave here, despite what happened to her house.” 

“She’s an old woman, Hawk,” Buck protested. “She has no place to go.” He plunged back into the forest, looking but not calling, unaware if they might have been followed or not. 

Hawk followed. “I think she is more capable than she looked. Did you notice we didn’t have to stop to let her rest?” There was something about this place, some kind of eerie feeling that the ambush, indeed, that the whole planet was giving him. He felt they needed to leave. 

Buck continued his search, saying nothing. After another ten minutes, Hawk touched his arm. 

“And there is also the possibility that she might have been part of the ambush,” he pointed out. 

“Her?” Buck asked incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding!” 

“While I believe that she is not, we cannot dismiss that idea and we cannot continue to look for her. For whatever reason, she does not want to be found,” Hawk said. “We must get this information to the Searcher and the Galactic Council.” 

Buck sighed, realizing that Hawk was right. “All right, let’s get back to the ship.” 

The late afternoon sun glared off the shuttle, causing him to blink. Hawk pressed his hand against the keypad and the door slid open. Buck paused and turned back to the forest. He heard a muffled call from inside and turned back to the doorway. “What did you say, Hawk?” Ducking through the doorway, Buck immediately felt a hand at his throat, but before he could even struggle, he was shoved against the shuttle’s bulkhead. A fist in his gut left him gasping and Buck was only barely aware of who his attackers were. Familiar! They were familiar. Another fist in the pit of his stomach bent him over, gasping for air. He saw Hawk struggling on the other side of the shuttle, but several men had him effectively pinned. The man who had sucker-punched him looked ready to kick the crap out of him.

“Boss, didn’t they say they wanted him intact?” a voice asked. 

“Yes, I suppose we had better discontinue our fun.” There was a pause. “Get him up. I want Rogers to see who has the upper hand this time.” 

Hands grabbed him under the arms and Buck was hoisted upright to face—“Flagg!” 

“That’s right, Rogers, except this time, I win and there’s no magical old man to help you and your bird buddy.” 

“Who financed your little revenge mission, Flagg?” 

The other man grabbed him around the throat again and squeezed lightly. “The same people whose boss you put in jail, Rogers.” 

“Kormand’s conviction is air tight, Flagg, He’s going to prison, whether I’m there or not.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But the organization don’t like people who interfere. They have long memories, too.” 

“Boss, you want Schafer to head out?” 

“In a minute.” Flagg turned back to Buck. “Now you’re going to make a call to your ship.” 

“Fat chance, Flagg.” 

“You don’t understand, Rogers,” Flagg gloated. “While the boss wants both of you alive, he’s not quite as picky about the condition of the birdman.” He looked meaningfully at Hawk who was shaking his head at Buck. “If he ends up at the rendezvous dead, I can live with it, even if my bonus will be a bit less.” 

Buck’s eyes blazed in indignation, but his heart felt fear. He knew that Flagg would not hesitate to follow through on his threats. Only the fact that someone else was holding the end of Flagg’s leash kept him alive, Buck thought ruefully. 

Flagg nodded to his men and one of them pulled out a knife and approached Hawk. Although he struggled, Hawk couldn’t overcome the three men holding him down. 

“Why don’t you shave off those pretty feathers, Rick,” Flagg said with a laugh. 

Buck watched in horror as the man grabbed Hawk’s feathers and jerked his head back. The knife suddenly slid a light line across Hawk’s jaw and then hovered above the birdman’s eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Flagg?” Buck asked hastily, even as he watched the blood welling on Hawk’s face. His friend was still shaking his head, but in resignation now. 

“You are simply going to tell your ship that you are following another ship, one that holds the answers to the distress signal you followed here. You will do it quickly and without embellishment. You will also do it close enough to the stargate to make a reply unfeasible.” 

“That in and of itself will make them suspicious,” Buck replied. 

“Now, Captain, you are an executive officer. And I believe an unorthodox one at that,” Flagg said, his face close to Buck’s. “Make it convincing, or your friend dies.” 

“Buck, no,” Hawk said, almost inaudibly. One of the men holding him down twisted his arm painfully, but Hawk didn’t flinch. 

“Tell Schafer to go now.” Flagg turned to another man. “Get this ship powered up.” 

“We didn’t have time to get past the ident-lock,” the man said. 

“Open her up, Rogers. And nothing funny.” 

Slowly, Buck moved forward under the watchful eye of Flagg. His captor shoved him and Buck began to pivot to grab him.

Flagg pointed to Hawk and the knife resting against his friend’s neck. “Uh uh, Rogers. Nothing funny at all.” 

Buck sighed in resignation and sat down in the co-pilot’s chair. He unlocked the controls and then put his hands in his lap. He felt bitter thoughts of recrimination rising in his heart, sharing space with anger and fear. If only he’d kept his mind on the job, on their mission. “How do I know that you won’t go ahead and kill us after I do what you say?” 

Flagg laughed derisively. “Rogers, you don’t. But a bit of comfort is the fact that I had a list of desirable captures and I get five thousand credits apiece. If the prisoner is alive, that is.” 

Buck couldn’t help it, he laughed sarcastically. “Kormand’s underling is a cheapskate to only give ten thousand for both of us.” 

“Oh, you misunderstand. I get a five thousand credit bonus if I bring you in alive. And a two thousand credit bonus for bringing in the bird. The bonuses add up.” 

“Schafer is in the air, sir,” the man next to him said. 

“Good, take her up, fast and hard,” Flagg ordered. He sat down in one of the extra seats. “Hang on, Ross. And don’t let the birdman do anything except breath.” 

The pilot lifted the shuttle about ten meters off the ground and then punched in the sublight engines. With a violent surge and roar of the engine, the ship shot into the upper atmosphere. 

“Searcher to Scout One. Report.” 

“Let them wait a moment, then answer,” Flagg ordered. “Britt, take the most direct course after Schafer.” 

“Searcher to Scout One. Buck, Hawk, report. What’s going on?” That time it was Wilma. 

“Answer. No vid,” Flagg told him. “But remember if you value your friend’s life…” 

With great reluctance, Buck flipped the communications switch and began speaking. “We’re following those jokers. Roughed up some of the natives, massive damage and we heard they had valuable info on the Human Rights organization. We’ll check in on the other side of the stargate. Rogers out.”

“Be careful, Buck, Hawk,” Wilma said. 

“We will.” 

Flagg reached over and flipped the switch. “She sounded convinced. Very good, Captain.” 

“Now what?” Buck asked. 

“Just this….” 

And Buck saw a flash in his peripheral vision and then felt darkness descend.


	3. Chapter 3

Forerunners of Bosk

Chapter Three 

Buck awoke to laughter—harsh laughter. His head pounded and his mouth felt like stale cotton. Slightly opening his eyes, Buck saw several men standing over him. 

“Well, well, the sleeping prince awakes,” a somewhat familiar voice said. “You see, Garrott, I told you I had brought you live ones.” 

Buck sat up quickly, instantly regretting that move as the pounding increased to almost unbearable proportions. He rubbed his temples briefly to try and ease the pain. Seeing Hawk unconscious on the ground near him, he gazed up at his captors. With Flagg was someone else he recognized. “Getting to be old home week, I see,” he muttered. “What rock did you crawl out from under, Leegrand?” 

“Make your jokes, Rogers. Soon, however, you won’t be in the mood to make wisecracks. You’ll be too busy staying alive,” Leegrand said. He then pointedly ignored Buck and turned to another man, one the terran didn’t recognize. 

Buck began to stand up, but at a motion from Leegrand a guard pointed his pistol and fired, again sending Buck into unconsciousness. 

Leegrand smiled in satisfaction. “So satisfying,” he murmured. Turning his attention back to the other man, he said. “Are your facilities ready for these two?” 

“Absolutely, as my contacts have always been ready for anyone who doesn’t fit into society,” Garrott said with a short laugh. “I have been wondering why your boss hasn’t utilized our services before now.” 

“Because he preferred more permanent and quicker solutions to getting rid of enemies. I think he would like this touch, though, especially for these two,” Leegrand explained. 

“Never dealt with a birdman either,” Garrott said. “For that matter, my contact only has a limited number of non-humans. Most of them recent. It will be interesting how well this birdman does.” 

“Well enough to suit both of us,” Leegrand replied. “Of course, if someone comes snooping there will be no evidence of either, correct?” 

“They have not had any repercussions to their ‘re-education’ efforts thus far. You needn’t worry.” 

“You don’t know these vermins’ friends. They are very determined,” Leegrand said tersely. 

“You make sure of your back trail, because if the terran’s friends make it here it will be because you and your men slipped up, not me.” 

“Just get them to Bosk and I’ll feel ever so much better,” Leegrand growled. Then he began to smile. “You have no idea, Rogers, none whatsoever.” He turned back to Garrott. “I want to accompany you. I want to see them when they wake up.” 

Garrott just nodded and smiled in return. These two were prime and would give several decent years of service. They had better; he had spent a great many credits on them already. Surreptitiously, he glanced at Erik Kormand’s deputy. Leegrand had not told him how his boss had ended up in a prison cell in Cronis, nor had he even acknowledged the fact, but rumors like that had a way of getting around and Garrott had heard it from several sources. He didn’t doubt that somehow these two had some responsibility in Kormand’s capture. No matter, he thought, they would still work—or die. Now he smiled. Actually it was ‘they will work and then die.’ They would never leave Bosk alive. 

====================== 

Hawk felt the cold uneven floor beneath him and he knew, even before he had fully awakened, that he was in a cave. And within seconds of his first revelation, he knew he had been stripped of his hard outer clothing, his kiripani, or armor of rank. He felt the shock of that violation to his person no less than he would have a high voltage electric current. 

It was all he could do to keep from jerking up, finding out who had done this unthinkable deed and demand the return of his honor garb. But instead, he barely opened his eyes, studying his surroundings as surreptitiously as he could. 

It was a cave, almost the size of the Searcher’s recreation room. It was lit by electrical power, but there the amenities ended. The walls were roughhewn, the ceilings only tall enough to keep a tall person from hitting his head. In some places there were fissures and cracks, but the darkness hid how far upward they extended. The floor, of course, was uncovered, bare stone that held no heat. A few feet away, Hawk saw Buck sprawled on the cave floor, unconscious. His flight suit had been changed into something of a non-descript nature, light gray pants and a light gray shirt. Only his boots had been left on him. Hawk had no doubt that he was dressed similarly. 

A foot nudged his side. “I know you’re awake, birdman. Get up,” a voice commanded. “And don’t try anything, or you’ll find yourself eating that cave floor.” 

Before making any kind of escape attempt, Hawk knew he had to learn more, and he also had to find out Buck’s condition. Slowly, he got to his feet, his eyes assessing his total surroundings as discreetly as he could. “Where are we?” he asked. 

A cold-eyed human stood in front of him, a laser pistol precluding any kind of overt movement. “Birdman, learn something now.” 

“I am Hawk.” The declaration was as much for himself as for this human. He was Hawk, Sky Warrior, Star Warrior of the Tane-rapanui. It was something he had to say even as he knew where he was and what this human was about to say. He was in a prison, something he had vowed would never happen. It seemed unbelievable that their captors had been so easily able to get into their shuttle and overpower them. 

“You are nothing, birdman. You have no name here.” The human spat out. “You answer to whatever name you are called, even if it’s slug dung.” The man stared intently into his eyes. 

Hawk merely gazed back, expressionless. He would not give him the benefit of any kind of satisfaction over his capture and imprisonment. “How is my friend?” 

“He will live, not that it’s of any concern to you now.” The man continued to stare at him. Looking for some kind of chink in his armor. 

Hawk turned to check Buck for himself. 

“Don’t think about it, vermin, unless you want to join him.” 

Hawk stood tall and again said nothing. 

“Understand this, birdman. Your life is mine. Your only hope to leave here alive is to work. You work hard and produce for the company, you might get to leave a bit sooner.” 

_He is lying_, Hawk thought. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“You cause trouble or slack and you will live a short, miserable life. Production adds points. Points earned mean freedom.” 

Again Hawk said nothing, sensing that the only way out of here was either through death or escape. He would seek for the latter. 

“Do you understand what I am saying?” 

Hawk said nothing, only giving a slight imperceptible nod.

“And once you leave this room you will say nothing. Newcomers are not allowed to communicate until their period of probation is past. You do exactly what you are told and we will get along fine.” He gazed again at Hawk, waiting for some response, but as before there wasn’t anything more than a nod. Seemingly uncomfortable under the birdman’s scrutiny, the human turned to one of the guards. “Wake him up,” he ordered, pointing to Buck. “And get this one out of here,” referring to Hawk. 

“But Dr. Beros, it would be easier to orient them together,” the guard pointed out. 

“Don’t argue with me. These two are better off being kept separate,” Beros said, glancing over at his other guest, Erik Kormand’s lieutenant, Leegrand. The man seemed to agree with his assessment. The birdman turned and gazed deeply into his eyes even as he was being shoved out the door. Again, Beros felt distinctly uncomfortable and he was glad when the alien was gone. As the door slid closed behind the birdman, the guard was kneeling, using the sonic prod to rouse the terran. 

First Rogers groaned, then in a move that both surprised and alarmed Beros, the terran grabbed the guard’s hand, jerking the controller from his grasp, then raising up enough to grasp the guard’s collar. Rogers yanked his tormentor toward him. “You use that cattle prod on me again and I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

Leegrand had his laser pistol out, but Beros motioned him to wait. “I would suggest that you release my guard, prisoner. It’s very obvious that you have no chance of escape.” 

Rogers smiled grimly. “I was only making my point,” he said, shoving the guard away from him and getting to his feet. He tossed the sonic prod into a far corner. 

Beros could only assume that Rogers had been partially conscious during his conversation with the birdman, but he wouldn’t inquire into that. It was of little consequence whether he was or not. The only consequence was that Rogers and his friend work enough to pay back the price for which they were sold to him. And enough to make the deal profitable for him. The bonuses he had been promised should do that. 

The man in front of him appeared to be very healthy and, if the little demonstration was any indication, strong. The other thing that was of consequence was that Rogers understand who was in charge here on Bosk. Despite his little display of insolence and independence, Rogers would learn to obey and to obey quickly. And he would work. The worth of any slave here in the mines was how much crillite he could harvest before he died. “Let me make my point, prisoner,” Beros said, staring directly into Rogers’ eyes. 

“Prisoner? What was my crime?” 

Beros smiled. “You figure it out, forerunner. In the meantime, listen to me and listen well.” Beros paused and smiled slightly when he saw that he had the terran’s attention. “You are here. You will work. If you work hard, do exactly what you are told, you will earn points toward your eventual release.”

“That, warden, is a bunch of BS and you know it as well as I do. The only way I suspect anyone gets released from here is in a body bag.”

Beros now thought he understood a bit of Leegrand’s eagerness for this enemy of Kormand’s to be brought here and for the bonus checks he would be receiving. But regardless…. Beros, without warning, slammed one fist into Rogers’ stomach and the other to the side of the prisoner’s head. Rogers found himself sitting on the hard ground, groggily shaking his head.

“The first thing you will learn is that you don’t talk back to your superiors,” Beros said evenly, even as he rubbed his knuckles. “And everyone here is your superior, forerunner.” 

Buck gazed up at the man he assumed was the head of this operation and refrained from making any comments about who was superior. At this point, the man and his guards were superior insofar as the condition of his body was concerned. He rubbed his jaw where the warden’s fist had connected. “Mind if I get up, warden? It’s kind of cold down here.” 

“Yes, I do mind. You sit there and listen.” 

Buck said nothing. 

“Perhaps you are right. One such as you will not earn points necessary to be released. But the harder you work, the more obedient you are, the longer you live.” Beros paused and looked meaningfully at the man on the floor. “And the longer your bird friend lives,” he added meaningfully. When he saw Rogers’ eyes narrow, Beros knew he had hit upon the right means of controlling this man. It was not his usual method, but whatever would get the most work out of his prisoners, insofar as it was feasible, he would do it. He continued, “You, like all new prisoners, will be under probationary solitary for the first fourteen days. There will be no communication. You will not speak unless spoken to by a guard or a privileged or myself. Do you understand?” 

Buck paused a moment, weighing his options. There were none, except to see where this train was going to take him and hope to get off at an appropriate time. “Sure, warden,” he finally said. “What’s a forerunner?” he asked, picking up on what the man said earlier. Even while he tried to put up a noble front, Buck was seething inside, a cauldron of anger, guilt and despair. He pushed the despair out of his mind. While he was in one piece there was always hope that something would turn the tide of this situation. The anger, he forced to a tolerable level. The recriminations were useless as well. Somehow, Buck felt that he would need to save all of his energy to survive and escape. 

“That will be explained to you later, prisoner,” Beros said tersely, ready to send Rogers on to indoctrination. “Get up now and don’t try anything you’ll regret.”

Buck looked at the well-armed guards, noticed Leegrand standing in the corner, pleased with what was going on, and then brought his attention back to the warden. He would have to go along with all this for now, look for any opportunities to turn this to his favor. Hawk was still alive, no thanks to his inattentiveness. However, they were both still alive and while they were alive, there was hope for escape as well as for help from the Searcher. Although Leegrand had planned well, there was no such thing as a perfect crime. Somewhere, sometime, Wilma and the admiral were going to find a clue. In the meantime…. “I want to thank you for your warm welcome to this particularly lovely spot in Paradise, Warden,” Buck quipped with a smile. This time, he found that the small act, his words, insignificant as they were, made him feel a bit better. 

Beros frowned. “I am Dr. Beros, the administrator. Not warden, as you call it.” 

“Thanks, Doc. Old Earth term, but it means the same thing,” Buck replied. He looked over at Leegrand, even as a guard pushed him in the ribs with his laser rifle. “Oh, and Leegrand, give Erik my regards when you go visit him on Cronis.” 

Leegrand felt his hand moving toward his pistol, but didn’t follow through. “We’ll see how much joking you’re doing in a month, Rogers. And rest assured, Erik Kormand won’t remain on Cronis very long.” 

Buck gave him a knowing grin even as he was led out of the room. The smile faded. Was Leegrand bluffing, or did he know something? But he had no way of finding out other than watching for an opportunity to escape. He was led into a larger room, one with rows of benches. This, too, was built into the rock of the cave system, three of the walls a dark granite-like material, the fourth raw metal. There were no windows, of course. A group of prisoners was being escorted out, about ten people, all dressed alike. Buck was startled to note that one was Hawk. A briefest glance and a few quick signals in sign language and his friend was gone. Buck didn’t even have time to respond before Hawk was gone. 

Just as Hawk had taught him some of his ancestral language, so also had Buck begun teaching Hawk American Sign Language. Hawk had made a very succinct statement with only a few motions of his fingers. He had signed his own name, a sure declaration of identity in this place where there was none and then he had said, ‘we will be free!’ 

“Sit down, prisoner,” a guard ordered. “It may be a while.” 

“Why?” Buck asked. 

Immediately, he felt the hard sting of the sonic prod, and gave an involuntary cry. 

“You were told to only speak when told to. Otherwise you are to remain silent at all times,” the guard said, wisely standing just out of Buck’s reach. It was the same guard that Buck had taken the prod from earlier. 

Buck glanced at the sonic prod and nodded. 

“Good,” the guard said and sauntered off to the other side of the room where he sat down in a chair facing Buck. 

An extremely tall black man entered through the door on the opposite side of the room. He was so tall that he had to duck through the doorway. He didn’t sit down next to him, but he only stood by the door watching him. The tall man had no weapon or communication device and he was wearing the same non-descript gray outfit that he was wearing, so Buck assumed the newcomer was something akin to a trustee. 

A short squatty man entered through the same door he had come through and looked at Buck in disgust. “Why in the world you couldn’t have been indoctrinated with the others, I’ll never know,” he said. 

Buck just shrugged, seeing the indolent, yet watchful gaze of the guard.

With a sigh, squatty man began his spiel. “You have been assigned to be a forerunner. It is your job to lay the charges and clear the new tunnels for the miners to dig the crillite that your charges dislodge. It’s strenuous, but you get more points for the duty.” 

_It’s dangerous, period_, Buck mused. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because the black man gave a knowing smirk.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“You will be using a rock cannon and cellenite charges. The cannon will find or create the fissures that the charges will be placed in. You will be trained in packing and setting the cellenite, the programming of the detonators and all other aspects of being a forerunner. And do not think of using your charges to make an escape. There is a remote detonator that blows any escape-minded forerunner into so many little atoms. And we’ll still get the crystals.” 

Buck saw the guard watching him carefully and raised his hand, feeling much like a recalcitrant schoolboy. 

The lecturer frowned. “What?”

“Cellenite is as dangerous as hell. What safeguards do you employ?”

“Enough to keep you alive if you use your brains, forerunner.” He glanced at the black man. “Prisoner two-thirty-nine will personally train you. He nodded to the guard and then turned and left. Prisoner two-thirty-nine beckoned and Buck got up and followed, the guard watching as he went through the door behind the tall prisoner.


	4. Chapter 4

“If they had only given us the coordinates,” Asimov said in exasperation. 

“How many known destination coordinates through this stargate?” Wilma asked. 

“Twenty-three,” Crichton answered definitively. 

“List them,” Wilma ordered. “On a print-out where I can study them. I also want the nearest base, world, whatever, listed for each,” she added. 

“Of course, Colonel,” Crichton responded stuffily. 

“What are your thoughts, Wilma,” Asimov asked. 

“Buck didn’t use the vid-communicator, even though the shuttle was fully operational.”

“Nothing unusual in that,” Asimov said. “And they were chasing a fugitive.”

“Did the sensors pick up anything on that craft?” Wilma asked. Her instincts were raging alarm bells right now. There had been missions where things had gone wrong, where plans had gone awry or changed at the last minute, but this had the feel of something gone terribly wrong. And she didn’t think she was being paranoid. 

“Only the make, Colonel,” Devlin said, his fingers flying over his surveillance and navigation panel. “It was a Vega class starfighter, similar to ours.” 

“How many on board,” Wilma asked. 

“One.” 

“Why would Buck and Hawk try to outrun a starfighter with a shuttle?” Wilma mused out loud. “Unless they had the starfighter’s designation coordinates.” 

“And if that was the case, why didn’t Buck or Hawk transmit those coordinates?” Asimov asked thoughtfully. “But then Buck has been known to act first and then think later.” 

“That’s true, also, but not that often, Admiral,” Wilma replied. “And why did they wait. Hawk could have piloted while Buck sent the communications. Something just doesn’t seem right.” 

“With twenty-three possibilities, it’s going to take time to check them all out,” Asimov said. 

“We have no choice, do we, sir?” Wilma asked. 

“No, we don’t. Not unless they contact us first.” 

“Twiki, Crichton and I can study the twenty-three destinations and rank them in order of probability,” Dr. Theopolis said helpfully. 

“In the meantime, I’m going down to Neckar and see what I can find out,” Wilma announced. 

===========================

Hawk gazed at the “cannon” sitting benignly in its rack. It was not very big, but he knew from the training session he had just completed, that it was heavy. With a mental shrug he pulled it off the rack by one of its two handles. The guard handed him a pack, which Hawk knew was filled with small but deadly cellenite charge canisters. He gently slung the pack over his shoulder and picked up the cannon, centering its weight under his arm. The guard beckoned and Hawk and another forerunner followed. His partner appeared to be of human stock from Ssrillin. The large yellow-gold eyes studied him intently before returning his gaze to the guard. Ssrillin, from what Hawk had learned in his recent travels, was a dark world, covered with clouds, wet and humid. The darkness down here would suit a person such as the Ssrillin, but it did not suit him. While he had lived in caves in Throm, he and Koori had always spent as much time out on the cliffs as they could, where the wind blew their feathers and the air was clean and pure. Ah, Koori. Stay close in my heart. I think I will need your touch near me. 

From the time he had awakened in the room where he and Buck had been brought, Hawk had looked for weaknesses, something that would give him hope for escape, but so far nothing had presented itself. He would not give up, though. Perhaps he and Buck would be able to compare notes at mealtime. 

At the entrance to a roughhewn corridor, the guard handed Hawk a dust mask and said, “Eight twenty-nine, you are expected to do a full day’s quota. So you’d better get in there and get to work. And just because I am not watching over you does not mean that I have no control over you.” He paused and then pulled out a small device. “If I even think you are contemplating an escape, I will bring the tunnel down around your ears.” 

Hawk only nodded. He felt bitterness and anger in his heart but right now his anger was best if held in reserve for a time of escape. Unbridled anger had made him careless in the past. His focus now had to be directed on the work ahead. It would do neither him nor Buck any good if he lost his life before he could affect an escape. 

The corridor, which the guard had pointed out, appeared to be more of a natural landslip, rather than a man-made tunnel. It went about twenty feet before it narrowed to a solid rock face. A single glowing light hung overhead and Hawk took a moment to study the wall before doing anything. It didn’t bother him as much that his time was limited as much as having a serious accident did. 

He laid his cannon against the wall and then pulled off the pack, taking it back nearly to the entrance to this little corridor. He pulled out one charge packet and returned to his ‘station’ where he gently laid it to the side. Picking up the cannon, Hawk placed the end on a likely weak spot and pressed the pressure release button. Inside the cannon, the mechanism freed the pressure rod, which shot through its tube and slammed against the rocky surface. The kick bucked the cannon back against his chest and Hawk staggered momentarily before he braced himself. 

Again he pressed the release button, this time holding it down. Hawk had his balance now and let the cannon work against the rock wall until there was a large enough hole for the cellenite charge. It was then that Hawk remembered the dust mask and goggles hanging below his neck. He put them on and then carefully placed the charge packet into the small crevice. He pushed a tiny button that activated the little packet and then grabbed the cannon and hurried back up the narrow corridor. As he rounded a corner into the main tunnel, the cellenite exploded with a booming roar, shaking the ground beneath his feet. Dust and grit blew out of the little corridor and Hawk let it settle a bit before he went back in. Rubble littered the tunnel, but he stepped over it and surveyed his work. He had taken down several feet of the wall. There was the occasional glitter of some kind of gem, crillite, he supposed, but Hawk ignored that, only studying the wall again before picking up the cannon to drill another hole for another charge. 

He continued in this manner for what seemed an eternity. Sometimes when he came out of the tunnel, the guard was standing there watching him, sometimes not. After his second charge, the guard checked his work and nodded. “Come. There is another tunnel that needs opening.” And the work began again. After what seemed an interminable time, the guard, this time with the Ssrillin forerunner, motioned for him to follow them. Hawk gathered up his equipment, the nearly empty cellenite bag and followed, suddenly realizing just how tired he was. His anger smoldered in his heart, though, feeding his resolve that he would get out of this place, which greatly resembled his people’s version of hell. 

He turned in his pack and cannon and received a bowl with some kind of hot gruel, along with a chunk of what appeared to be a type of crusty bread. The guard beckoned him and Hawk followed. After a short walk, the guard pointed to a small indentation in the rock wall and he entered. A barred door closed behind him and Hawk almost cried out in his anger and frustration. He gazed balefully at the guard who just shrugged and walked away. Hawk sighed and turned to look around his cell. He had hoped to be able to see Buck at mealtimes, but even that was to be denied. 

There was an extension of the wall of his cell, fairly flat and almost long enough for him to lie down on. Presumably that was his bed. On it lay a blanket and a lumpy thing Hawk figured passed for a pillow. A small cistern carved out of the wall held water that trickled down the wall. Setting down his dinner, Hawk went over and dabbled his hands in the small bowl. The water was frigid. He tasted it and found it refreshing. After taking a long drink, Hawk washed his sweaty face and dirty hands, careful to let the dirty water drip to the floor rather than back into the stone bowl. The trickle of water appeared to be only enough to satisfy minimal needs and Hawk was not about to dirty what was probably his only source of drinking water. 

He turned back to his food and seeing no utensils, used some of the bread to scoop up what he realized on closer examination was a thick stew. It was filling, Hawk determined, not being able to give it a more praiseworthy designation. When he had finished, the birdman realized just how weary he was and setting aside his bowl, lay down, trying to get comfortable. Finally, after much tossing and turning and thinking, he was able to fall into a fitful sleep. 

==========================

The tall black man led Buck into another fairly large room, one whose walls were lined with equipment. 

“You’re going to be using one of these, forerunner,” the trustee said, pointing to several machines that reminded Buck of jackhammers. He assumed their purpose was the same. “And don’t think to get chatty. This session is monitored.” 

“Okay. Fair enough. Is it permitted to ask questions about my job?” Buck asked, not wanting to get the other prisoner in trouble. 

“Yes. It’s your life that’s going to be depending on how well you learn to use this cannon to get the crillite.” 

Buck gazed surreptitiously around the room and saw where one video camera was installed. With a shrug, he turned his full attention back to his teacher. 

“This is the rock cannon you’ll be using.” The black man pulled one of the jack hammers down and began showing Buck the parts, how to use it and how to take care of it. 

An hour later, Buck had a pretty good idea of what he was up against and he didn’t like it at all. “Dante must have visited this place,” he muttered. 

“Who?” the privileged asked, then he shrugged and said, “Be careful. Forerunners don’t live very long, but those that live the longest are the ones who are careful even after they have gotten used to their jobs.” 

Buck gazed deeply into the man’s eyes. He saw sadness there, and resignation, but beneath it all, there seemed to be a strength that no amount of time could destroy. “Are you trying to cheer me up, friend?” Buck asked, a wry smile on his face.

Now the privileged gazed thoughtfully at him and then bent close. “Do you fully understand this mechanism?” he asked, pointing to the pressure release. “Barney,” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I understand,” Buck said aloud, wondering where he had heard that name before. Then he pointed to a button on the handle. “You did say that this would give continuous pressure, right?” 

“Yes,” Barney said. Behind them, the door opened and a dour-faced guard walked in. 

“Thanks,” Buck said meaningfully, frustrated that he couldn’t even tell this man his name. 

“Come on, forerunner,” the guard said. “Get your cannon.” 

Buck hefted the cannon, and feeling a perverse sort of irritation taking hold of him, turned to face the camera lens. He slapped his free hand to his chest and said mockingly, “We who are about to die, salute you.” As he turned to follow the guard, he grinned at Barney, who just gazed at him in bemusement. Buck walked through the door after the guard, cannon resting heavily on his shoulder. The smile faded and he felt the additional weight of his situation settle on him. Unless something almost miraculous came up, he was afraid that his and Hawk’s only hope would be the Searcher. But how in the world could Asimov and Wilma find their trail through at least one stargate, possibly more? 

He watched carefully the route the guard was taking him, trying to find something, anything that he could use for escape. Soon, however, they were at a roughhewn corridor where he was handed a backpack with cellenite explosive packets and a dust mask, and then he was directed into a crevice barely wide enough to accommodate him. Quickly, Buck studied the rock wall, hammered a hole large enough for the explosive and then set it. He barely squeezed out of the crevice before the explosive went off. Buck picked himself off the ground, dusted off his clothes and glared back at the crevice. 

The guard chuckled derisively. “You gotta be faster at this or those bombs are going to take your head off, forerunner.” 

Buck had a ready retort but a look at the guard’s face reminded him of the no talking edict. He nodded. 

“You check and if there is plenty of crillite lying around, then we go to the next new area. If not, you lay more cellenite until there is enough of the ore for the miners to get full baskets. And there won’t always be a guard standing around waiting for you, but we do have ways to know if you are trying to escape or use the cellenite bombs as weapons.” He paused and gazed intently into Buck’s face. “If you try either, you will be blown to bits.” He held up what appeared to be a small detonating device. “Either way, there will be enough of the crillite for the miners to gather.” 

Again Buck nodded. He entered the crevice and checked. By the one light, he was able to see that there was need for at least one more charge, probably two. Studying, he laid the cellenite into a crack that the last charge had made and then set it. This time he was able to get out with a few seconds to spare. Even before the dust had cleared, Buck readjusted the dust mask and goggles and was back in the now slightly wider crevice studying the results of the two explosions. It took some jack hammering and one more detonation before there was enough of the crillite for the miners to gather. 

The guard led him to another area, which had been worked out by the miners. This time he had to take down more of the wall to get to what was believed to be a large vein of crillite lying behind the gray surface. Examining the wall and remembering his geology from high school, Buck placed two charges, ten feet apart. He set the detonator on one, dashed to the other one and set it on the run, then with the pack bumping against his hip, Buck ran toward the entrance of the corridor, colliding with the guard as he reached the opening. “Hit the deck!” he called, diving to the ground. The words had barely left his lips when the first, then second cellenite bomb went off. The ground trembled and rocks crashed. Dust flew everywhere and Buck coughed, even with the mask. 

“What did you do in there, you idiot?” the guard demanded as Buck got up from the ground. 

“Got the job done,” Buck said tersely. “I’ll show you.” 

“Just see if there is enough crillite to gather,” the guard said, not moving to follow. 

Shrugging, Buck walked into the rubble filled area and saw with satisfaction that there was plenty of rough gemstones lying everywhere. He gathered up his cannon and walked back toward the guard. “It’s done.” 

The guard nodded. “Come on. There are a lot more of these to do. And no talking.” 

The guard led Buck to another new corridor, which he blew quickly, then to another. The hammering and detonation of explosions continued seemingly forever until he was surprised when the guard led him, not to another wall to blow, but to an equipment room where he was told to leave his cannon and explosives sack. By the time he had hung his cellenite pack in its designated area, he was so exhausted that he could barely pick his feet up. He was handed a bowl of stew or something similar, a hunk of bread and led to a cell carved out of the bare rock. He sat down on a rock bench, ate most of his meal and then collapsed. 

He woke up later, shivering from cold and Buck pulled the one blanket over his body and tried to go back to sleep. It was difficult. The stone bed, the cold, his aching muscles all combined to keep him awake. And when he finally did, something that looked like a cross between a lobster and a tarantula crawled across his body, causing him to jerk up with a startled shout. 

A guard appeared at his cell door. “You are to remain silent!”   
“Couldn’t help it. Some creature….” 

The guard opened his door and before Buck even was aware of what was about to happen, he had shoved him against the stone wall, the stun prod at his throat. Buck reached up and felt an immediate and burning shock. 

“You will keep silent until your probation is over, do you understand?”

Buck could only nod, biting his lip against the surge of electrical energy that accompanied the guard’s words. 

“Good. Now go back to bed and keep quiet.” The guard left, slamming the steel barred door shut behind him. 

Rubbing his throat with one hand, Buck made a derogatory sign with the other. There were some signs that his old girlfriend, Jennifer didn’t teach in her sign language class, but he had learned them anyway. However, it didn’t really make him feel better and with a sigh, he laid down, trying again to get comfortable. All too soon, he was awakened by the guard’s shouts. Slowly, painfully, Buck got up and stretched, washed his face and hands in the small stone catch basin that was also built into the wall of the cave. Then his door was opened and he was led out to another day of endless, mind-numbing digging, hammering and explosions. And thus the days went, with no variance and no respite. And each day brought more bitterness and added despair.


	5. Chapter 5

After a careful aerial survey of the area where Buck and Hawk had landed, along with the place where the supposed distress signal had originated, Wilma and her wing man set their starfighters down in the same clearing in which the shuttle had landed. Several days ago she had seen a signal just as everyone else on the bridge of the Searcher had, but now there was nothing unusual at all except the still smoldering remains of a building nearby. 

Wilma popped her canopy and gazed around, her laser in one hand. Bristol, in the other starfighter, did the same. It was quiet, a slight early morning breeze causing leaves to rustle. They would have plenty of time to investigate, try to find out what happened here on the ground. That didn’t comfort Wilma, though. A day had already passed since Buck and Hawk’s disappearance. 

Wilma pulled the canopy closed and ident-locked it before jumping down and surveying the small clearing. Her wing-mate, John Bristol, did the same. He then used his scanner to survey the forest beyond their little clearing, making almost a complete circle before stopping. 

“Individuals. In that direction,” he said tersely, pointing. 

There was a small path. “How many?” Wilma asked. “Can you tell?” 

“It’s hard, but I think there are only a few,” Bristol replied. “All in the same direction.” 

Wilma nodded. “We’ll go slow and easy,” she said, starting down the path, her laser pistol out and ready. Carefully, they made their way through the forest until they reached a cleared hillside covered with cultivated vines. Wilma remembered that this was mainly an agricultural world only beginning to delve into extra-solar commerce. And alcoholic beverages were their specialty, wines mainly. “All right, what are your readings saying now?” 

“Ahead of us; over the next rise,” Bristol reported.

They walked along the utility road, watchful. Wilma noticed that a few plants were burned and she couldn’t help but think that it appeared to come from laser fire. She also examined the ground near those damaged plants. When they topped the rise, Wilma, having hand-signaled Bristol to leave the dirt road, paused, momentarily taken aback. Before them, on the flat valley floor, lay the smoldering ruins of what appeared to have been a dwelling. There were several people wandering around, one poking amongst the ruins, the others gazing directly at them. 

“Might as well go down and introduce ourselves, right Colonel?” Bristol said. “Sure apparent they know we are here.” 

Wilma only nodded, holstering her weapon, but leaving the safety strap undone. Bristol followed suit. They calmly walked down the hillside, but all the while, Wilma was looking around her. She saw outbuildings further down the valley which were untouched. As they approached the burnt out buildings, Wilma noted evidence of laser burns on part of the only still standing inner wall of the house. The three watchers walked out to meet them, their faces almost inscrutable, except for their eyes, which were hard and unwelcoming. 

“Colonel Wilma Deering from the exploration ship, Searcher,” Wilma began. “Two of….” 

“Two of your crewmen did this!” the man in the lead cried out. “And my great aunt was killed as a result.” 

Wilma was momentarily taken aback, but she quickly composed herself. “The two who came down here were answering a class two emergency distress signal.” She paused. “In case you aren’t aware of it, that’s an intra-space, to-be-answered-by-any-ship-in-the-vicinity signal.” 

“I don’t know about any space distress call. All I know is my aunt was an old woman living in the family home and two off-world criminals came and set the house on fire, killing her,” the man said tersely. 

Wilma gazed meaningfully at him, her eyes boring into his. “It looks more like an ambush to me,” Wilma said. “And I wonder just who ambushed whom?” She was gratified to see that the man who seemed to be in charge flinched and looked away for a moment. 

“What are you insinuating?” the first man asked. 

“I was making an observation,” Wilma answered. She pointed toward the part of one wall still standing. “See the laser burns? They came from outside. It’s my understanding that you people don’t have laser weaponry.” 

“Your men were outside,” the man argued.

“Yes, but they went inside,” Wilma replied, showing Buck and Hawk’s footprints that went to the bottom step of the porch. They were partly obliterated by other’s footprints, but it was still easy to see what Hawk and Buck had done. “They went in and were ambushed. There are no prints coming out.” 

“They came out and then flew away.”

“They and who else?” Wilma asked tersely. She had moved closer to the three men until they were almost toe-to-toe. 

“Get off this land before I call the law on you!” the man snarled. “And be lucky we don’t have galactic authorities arrest you all.”

“Don’t worry. The Galactic Council will hear about this. And if you should suddenly remember what really happened, you can contact us through the spaceport authority. We aren’t going anywhere right away,” Wilma said pointedly. 

“Get out! Get off our land!” the leader shouted. 

“Of course,” Wilma said with a smile. She motioned to Bristol and they turned and started back in the same direction they had come. When they came closer to the shed-like building, Wilma said, “Let’s take a short detour.” 

“They’re watching,” Bristol said. 

“Let them watch. We are doing what they said, just not the way they said.” Wilma felt her anger seething. She had wanted nothing better than to shove her fist into the man’s face. Liar, she thought. You are probably the one pulling a trigger out here. “And I thought I saw evidence of some activity near there. I just want a closer look.” 

As they approached the small building, Wilma saw that indeed there had been something going on here. There was the print of Hawk’s distinctive boot soles, his footwear having been made on Throm to his own specifications. There was another set of footprints, slightly larger that she took to be Buck’s and then smaller prints, shoes, not boots. A third person? The great-aunt? she thought. “Keep looking around where they can see you, Lieutenant,” she ordered. Going around to the far side of the building, Wilma found a door. It was locked, but she could have been willing to bet that there was some sort of passage from the house to this shed. 

“Couple of them are coming,” Bristol informed her. 

“That’s okay. Let’s go,” Wilma said. “I believe I have found out what I need to know.” 

They walked toward the forest, following the tracks that led from the shed. Just inside the foliage and out of sight of the Neckarese Wilma stopped. “Buck, Hawk and someone else, possibly that old woman they were talking about, came from the shed and went into the forest. The direction appears to be toward the shuttle,” Wilma told her companion. 

“But how did they get from the house…?” Bristol began and then it dawned on him. “A cellar or tunnel?” 

Wilma nodded. “Yes, let’s follow the trail as long as we can.” 

The small trail appeared to be a little used one, but it headed unerringly in the direction of the clearing where Buck and Hawk’s shuttle had been. When they reached the clearing, Wilma gazed more carefully around the area. Bristol did the same. 

“Colonel, there’s a lot of tracks over here,” Bristol called out.

Wilma joined him. “Yes, and near where their shuttle was sitting,” she concurred, pointing to the impressions made by the shuttle’s landing gear. In fact, even to her untrained eye, it seemed as though a veritable army had been here. 

“Could have been those guys from the vineyard,” Bristol suggested.

“Could be, and possibly others, too,” Wilma added. “But I don’t think they were in on the actual kidnapping. I think they just provided the place of ambush and maybe some firepower.” She wished she was better at this, but somehow, she thought these were not locals. Some of the prints had the conformation of space boots. “I’m going to look around the perimeter of this clearing. You watch our back trail.” 

As she studied the fortuitously soft ground, Wilma noticed the extra set of tracks leading into the forest. The other person with Hawk and Buck had not gotten on the shuttle with them. So where is she? she thought, feeling even more that this was the mysterious woman Buck and Hawk had been accused of killing. 

The tracks disappeared among the leaves and debris of the forest. Wilma returned to the clearing where Bristol was waiting for her. “There is nothing else we can do here,” she told him. 

“Did you find anything?” he asked. 

“Enough to be even more suspicious.” Wilma climbed into her starfighter and began preflight checks. Bristol did the same. Soon they were winging through the atmosphere toward the Searcher. 

=============================== 

Every morning since his arrival, Buck had managed to mark the passage of each day on the wall of his cell. On the fourteenth day, he awoke and began gasping for air, coughing and choking, trying to clear the phlegm that seemed to fill his windpipe and lungs. The last thing on his mind was marking a day. What most occupied his thoughts was staying alive. Within minutes a guard was at his door, silently watching, his eyes uncommitted, unsurprised and, for the moment, unresponsive. Finally, Buck was able to take slow breaths, painful though they were, and get some of the air his lungs craved. 

When he felt a bit better, he gazed meaningfully at the guard. “Don’t think I’m going to be blowing caves today,” he wheezed and then concentrated on his breathing. His lungs felt as though they were on fire and his body ached. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, but he felt chilled and only wished he could crawl back under his blanket. 

Finally the guard asked, inanely, Buck thought, “Are you all right, forerunner?” 

Gazing at the guard in the dim light, Buck saw no evidence that the guard was trying to bait him or be sarcastic. “No, I’m not. Hard to breathe.”

“I’ll take you to the med bay,” the guard said, opening the door. “Follow me.” 

Slowly Buck got up and walked out of his small cell, following behind the guard. He was almost panting by the time they got to the sick bay. 

“Sit down,” a small, gray-haired, sad-eyed man said, pointing to an exam table. “Take off your shirt.” 

Saying nothing, Buck did as he was told. 

“How do you feel?” the man whom Buck assumed to be a doctor, asked.

“Like hell.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. Then he smiled grimly. “Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Hard to breathe . . . lungs feel full of junk . . . muscles, joints ache.” He took a shallow breath and then coughed, loosening up phlegm in his throat. “Like the winter of seventy-nine. Kamikaze flu.” 

“I will accept your description and not try to understand what else you said.”

He paused. “But you have a malady common to those new to the mines, especially forerunners. Sets up in the lungs and hits pretty fast, although I have not seen a case hit quite so fast as yours.” He turned and walked to a locked cabinet. After thumbprint identification, he opened the cabinet, pulled out a small hypodermic vial and returned to Buck’s side. “Where did you say you were from?” The doctor set the vial down and picked up a small note pad and an old-fashioned pen. 

“Earth.” 

“Ah, terran. Which city?” 

“Chicago.” 

After taking a few notes, the doctor put down his note pad. “I am going to give you a shot that will counter the effects of your illness. You will begin to feel better in a few hours.”

Buck looked incredulous at the doctor’s claim, but at this point, he was willing to believe the man. All he wanted to do was lay down and just forget life existed for a few days. 

“You will also feel a bit more energized.” 

Buck just sat silently while the doctor gave him the shot in his shoulder.

“I need a bit of background. I’m studying this cave sickness, trying to learn enough about it to possibly come up with a vaccine to prevent it.” 

Buck nodded, thinking that even in his day there were flu vaccines, but they couldn’t figure out a way to prevent this? 

“How old are you?” 

There was no way Buck was going to get into a discussion of his chronological age. “Just shy of thirty-four.” 

The doctor checked his pulse, heart rate, and blood pressure. He took a sample of blood and then he dismissed Buck into the custody of a guard. Buck was taken to the breakfast room where he was given his morning repast, something that looked like a cross between grape nuts and oatmeal. This morning, though, he only picked at it listlessly, not feeling very hungry. He wondered if they truly expected him to blow open caves this morning. Finally, he laid his head on the table. A tap on the shoulder took his attention from the now cold breakfast and his misery. Buck looked up into the not unsympathetic face of a guard.

“Come with me. You are going to gather today.” 

Buck sighed, but said nothing, knowing it would do no good. He sincerely hoped the claims of the doctor were true, because if they weren’t he was going to be carried back to his cell. Nodding, he slowly got up and followed the guard. As they walked down a corridor, a trustee handed him a bag. The satchel was heavy and Buck looked in it, seeing a small shovel and a pick. That answered his previous question. He was working, although it was lighter duty, getting the gems the forerunners had blown loose. 

After what seemed an interminable walk, one where he had to stop briefly and rest a couple of times, the guard stopped him. “Wait. You will mine the crillite as soon as the forerunner is finished.” 

Buck nodded and waited, leaning against the rough wall, catching his breath. Surprisingly, though, he seemed to be having a slightly easier time breathing and he did feel a bit less tired. Soon there was a sharp blast, a rattling of loose stones and then only settling dust. The forerunner walked out of the corridor, a cannon on his shoulder. Buck was startled to see that it was Hawk. 

His friend was equally surprised, but he quickly recovered and with his free hand, signed, ‘How are you?’ 

‘Sick, but I am getting better,’ Buck replied in sign. Then he made another quick sign. ‘Freedom.’ 

“Forerunner, on to the next cave,” another guard said to Hawk. “You inside and gather the crillite,” he said to Buck. With a last look at Hawk, Buck gathered his satchel and walked into the cave. Hawk was escorted to his next duty station. 

Throughout the rest of the day Buck gathered the crillite, feeling somewhat better as the afternoon progressed. Within a couple of days, he felt almost back to normal. He was still surprised that they seemed to be able to make medicine that could work so quickly, and yet not be able to find something to prevent this malady. The following days added the routine of the medicine to his schedule and he didn’t dare question the whys of such long-term care, familiar as he was with the same types of medical regimens during his younger days. 

He began placing marks on the wall again now that he was feeling better and by his best reckoning, almost three weeks had passed. Buck began wondering why he bothered, but still he continued accounting for the days.


	6. Chapter 6

Forerunners of Bosk

  
Chapter Six

After several days of fruitless checking of stargates and spaceports, Wilma found herself back to the same conclusion. The clues they needed were back on Neckar. And she came back to the fact that the old woman the Neckarese had so hypocritically mourned had to hold the key they needed to narrow their search. She had been alive up to the time Buck and Hawk had taken off. Where was she now? She had to have seen something, anything that would help them find Buck and Hawk. 

It was worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

“Admiral,” Wilma announced. “I am going to go back down to Neckar and try and find that old woman. I think she may have some information that will help us.” 

The admiral only nodded. He had been expecting this and to be honest, he agreed with his second in command. Crichton had recently told him that for each stargate coordinate leading away from Neckar, there were about twenty more leading from stargates beyond that first stargate. Then the insufferable robot began giving him endless extrapolations and figures. “Take Twiki and Dr. Theopolis. They might be able to search computer databases, even as primitive as they are, while you inquire.” 

“Thank you, Admiral,” Wilma said, grateful for his understanding. She realistically knew that a ship such as the Searcher could not suspend its activities in a search and rescue of this magnitude forever. It was totally unfeasible that they would find Buck and Hawk by checking out all the stargate possibilities. Stargates, for all that they were marvelous inventions, were also great equalizers. If a person was being chased, they could hide with virtual impunity once they had reached a stargate. 

Wilma sighed as she strode down the corridor. If she could only narrow the search, find some kind of clue that would help her find Buck. Anything at all! She found Twiki in Buck’s cabin. “Quit moping, we have work to do,” she said tersely, while still understanding the quad’s feelings. Feelings, she thought, astonished. Yes, Twiki definitely was a thinking, feeling entity and she wondered about that phenomenon. She knew that Buck had done some tinkering on Twiki, but it was still as though there had been an evolution of sorts. And then Wilma determined that there had been an evolution for all of them. So much had happened in the past two plus years. _So very much.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

“What’s up, Wilma?” Twiki asked.

“We’re going to get Dr. Theopolis and go back down to Neckar,” she said. “A bit of investigative research.”

“About time,” Twiki grumbled.

Soon the trio was flying down toward the planet’s surface. “What is it you are hoping to find, Wilma?” Theo asked. 

“The men in the vineyard mentioned an old woman, a relative of theirs. There were the tracks of three people leading toward the shuttle’s landing spot. I want to find out who owns that property, and who this old woman is and where she’s at now.”

“If we are allowed into their data bases, that shouldn’t be difficult,” Theo told her. 

“But they don’t have more than a primitive computerized record system,” Wilma said, as much to remind herself as to inform the others. 

“But a vineyard is a business and any good business keeps records,” Theo said. “Land transactions, deeds, newspapers….” 

“Newspapers? I seem to remember Buck mentioning something like that,” Wilma mused, feeling the twang of anxiety that she always experienced whenever she thought of Buck’s disappearance. 

“Yes,” Theo explained. “A daily periodical printed on sheets of paper. And yes, Buck was the one who told me about them, too.” 

“On paper? Would they keep those kinds of records?”

“One would hope so. At least for a few years.” Theo blinked. “Buck said that they did on Earth in his day, even though most periodicals were beginning to be stored on computers by the time of his mission. And remember, Dr. Junius has found printed material that has survived since the holocaust.” 

They landed at a small space/airport and after securing Wilma’s starfighter, took a land shuttle into the middle of a small city, the one nearest to the vineyard where Buck and Hawk had landed. In the downtown stood several larger buildings, one or two exuding age, none over three stories tall. 

They were met with curious and not a few cold stares. “What do you want?” a clerk asked tersely when they went into a local government office.

“We want to access land records and the local newspapers,” Wilma answered. 

“For what purpose?”

“Two of our crewmen were kidnapped on some property near here and I want to know who owns the vineyard.” 

“I was told your crewman destroyed some valuable property out there. The old Brock mansion.” Then the clerk stopped suddenly, as though he had said too much. 

Wilma smiled sweetly. “Thank you for your information.” She paused. “Funny thing. When I went out there, they didn’t seem that concerned about the house. But they, like you, seemed awfully anxious to get rid of me.” She paused again. “I have heard that your planetary governments have applied to join the Galactic Council. This certainly isn’t going to look good on the application.” Wilma looked up, tapping her chin with one finger. “Disappearance of two Earth Directorate members, obstruction of an investigation. No, not look good at all.” 

The man glared at her for a few seconds. “Personally, I don’t give a brishel of grapes for off-planetary affiliations. And if your people did what I have heard they did, then maybe we don’t need to be part of this Galactic Council.”

“Knowing my men the way I do, I can tell you that they did not do what I have heard they did. They were ambushed,” Wilma said tersely. “And I want to know who did it and where my people are.” 

“And I don’t want to be accused of anything by our government,” the man retorted. “You don’t need to see the records. The Ahern family owns the land you’re talking about.”

“What about the Brocks?” 

“They used to own the land, but when old man Brock died, the Aherns paid the past due tariffs and took over the land.” 

“There was an old woman,” Wilma prompted. 

“Brisella Ahern Brock,” the clerk said. “Joses Ahern allowed her to keep living in the old house.” 

“Where is she now?” 

The man shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I heard a rumor that your men killed her when they burnt down the mansion, but I don’t really know.” He saw Wilma bristling and hastened to add, “They probably dumped her in an old folk’s home somewhere.” 

Wilma gazed at him for another moment or two and then smiled softly. “Thanks for your information.” She turned to leave, motioning to Twiki.

After they had left the building, Theo said, “Very well done, Wilma.” Twiki beeped his agreement.

“We still haven’t found Brisella Brock,” she said. 

“And do you think that could be a problem?” Theo asked. 

“Yes. Maybe impossible if the Aherns or those that hired them think she knows too much,” Wilma said tersely. 

“They would kill her? An old woman?” Theo was appalled, but when he checked his historical circuits, he realized that Wilma was right. “Where do you propose to look first, the newspaper office?”

“Yes, and then find out where these old folks homes are,” Wilma said.

At the newspaper office she was met with more curiosity than hostility. “You from that big ship that’s been orbiting Neckar the past few days?” the older man at the desk asked when she had inquired about Brisella Brock. He was balding, only a fringe of gray hair from above one ear around the back of his head to the other ear. Slightly pudgy, the man was far from fat. His blue eyes studied her carefully even as he seemed to be paying close attention to what she might say. 

_Inquisitive_, isn’t he? Wilma thought. “Yes,” she answered simply.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Same ship the two pyrotechnic experts were from?” The man wasn’t smiling now, but his eyes still seemed friendly, or maybe just curious.

“Pyrotechnics experts?” Wilma asked. 

“If by that, you mean Captain Rogers and Hawk, your information is highly questionable,” Theo said, his voice even to anyone but Wilma, who knew the quad well. She noted a touch of testiness. “By all indications, our comrades were ambushed and not the other way around.”

The man’s eyes grew large and he leaned over his desk to stare at Twiki and Theo. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured. 

Wilma decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. “I am Colonel Wilma Deering and this is Dr. Theopolis and Twiki,” she said politely. 

“Which is which?” the man asked. 

“I am a computer councilman from Earth,” Theo answered. “Twiki is an ambu-quad and serves as my means of transportation. 

Twiki held out his hand. “Glad to meetcha,” he said. 

The man took it gingerly and shook hands. “I’m Leon Habris,” he said to all three. He sat back down and gazed at them for a moment. “Depending on which story you listen to, your men burned down the Brock mansion, killed Brisella Brock or kidnapped her.” 

“I am simply trying to find B . . . Captain Rogers and Hawk,” Wilma said. “I know these men and I know they wouldn’t have done any one of those things.” 

“They aren’t on your ship? The Aherns claim to have chased them off.” 

“No, I’m afraid, from what little I’ve been able to find out, that they were kidnapped,” Wilma replied. 

“Kind of thought the Aherns were blowing smoke rings. Ever since they began to prosper with off-world trade, they’ve been getting more and more arrogant and obnoxious.” Habris pointed toward a couple of chairs. “Have a seat and tell me your side of the story.” He smiled. “I am curious. Newspaperman’s inclination, I suppose.”

“Not much to tell,” Wilma said, feeling that this was a man she could trust. “When we came into this quadrant we received a Class I emergency distress signal.” Seeing his puzzled look, she explained, “That’s a signal that is powerful enough to be picked up outside of the solar system of origin and is also one deemed of dire emergency. Usually natural disaster or some kind of cataclysmic man-made accident. To not respond to one is tantamount to criminal disregard. So Buck, uh, Captain Rogers, and Hawk flew down in a shuttle to access the situation and let us know what help was needed. While they were down there, we noted that there were no natural disasters, no attacks, and no wrecked ships. There was also some kind of interference, natural, we thought at the time that prevented us from communicating with them. Before we could act on this information our two men took off after a starfighter.” She paused to see if Habris understood what she was saying. When she saw that he was, Wilma continued, telling him of her investigations thus far. And even as she spoke of the past days, she felt the renewed tension of inactivity, the despair of helplessness building in her mind. With a shake of her head, Wilma tried to rid herself of the feelings that had been with her constantly since Buck and Hawk’s disappearance. 

When she had finished, Habris leaned back, deep in thought. Then he sighed. “I knew the Aherns were ruthless, but….” 

“Do you have a picture of Brisella Brock?” 

“Oh, yes. She was quite the lady when her husband was alive. Always doing charity work and holding social events.” Then he got up. “Follow me.” 

They went to a back room filled along one wall with metal cabinets. Habris opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. “This contains film disk copies of the gazette from about five years ago. The year Mrs. Brock’s husband died. The year the Aherns paid the tariffs and took over the Brock properties.” He paused. “I think it will be enlightening.” He put a small round disk in a machine, which he turned on. Almost immediately, Wilma saw a picture of a very elegant looking, white-haired woman, an older, but tall and straight man next to her. 

“That’s Brisella Brock and her husband, Edward. You can put her name into the search and the projector will pull up everything about her. Just let me know where you’re done,” Habris said. 

“Thank you,” Wilma said, sitting down in front of the small screen. She carefully read and looked at everything the machine brought up, as did Twiki and Theo. When they were finished, she leaned back and sighed. 

“A very interesting woman,” Theo said.

“Yes,” Wilma concurred. “And an interesting society.” A society where slavery had only been abandoned a scarce twenty years before, about the time that modern technology began to make headway. 

“She took all of these trials very hard,” Wilma added after a slight pause. “I wonder what she looks like now.” She got up and turned the machine off, stretching cramped muscles. “If she is still alive.” 

“She didn’t allow any pictures after her husband died, or very few anyway,” Habris said from the doorway. He came in and pulled the disk out of the machine. Then he added softly, “But if she is still alive, the Aherns have probably put her in a home in the city, certainly not here. Someplace where she’s not known.” 

“The city nearest here?”

Habris shook his head. “Most likely the capital city, Dubros. More anonymity there. But if she is in a home, your nosing around could very likely cause an early death, especially if she saw and heard things the Aherns would rather leave unsaid.” He rubbed his chin. “I can’t help but wonder, though, what the Aherns had against your two men. Why this device? What possible reason would Joses and his brood have for enticing a couple of off-world pilots to their land? And what about that other ship you mentioned. If that was the reason for the distress call, it didn’t seem to be in distress if it took off.” He gazed meaningfully at Wilma. 

“I have been wondering that myself and can only think of one thing,” Wilma said and then paused, wondering just how much to tell this man. 

“The Aherns were just the agents for someone else,” Habris supplied. “Someone off-world.”

Wilma looked at him in surprise, then she nodded. “That was my thought, in fact that is the only explanation.” She sighed. 

“I just wish there was a way to interrogate one of the Aherns, but we are walking a fine tightrope just as your planetary governments are,” Theo interjected. “We have to do this as discreetly as we can, because if our suspicions are correct, then this is not a planetary scale scheme, this is the action of one small group of people going for revenge. And we would not wish to endanger the negotiations that are going on between your planet and the Galactic Council.” 

Habris nodded. “Your crew mates must have made some particularly nasty enemies.” 

_Negotiations be damned_, Wilma thought, but she left her feelings unsaid. She felt trapped. Whoever had done this had planned well and executed even better. They had picked their place and time with utmost care. And it was going to be very hard to unravel this plot. “I don’t want to endanger Brisella Brock, but she is the only connection that we have right now. How can I find her?” Wilma asked plaintively, desperately pushing back the despair she was feeling. “How can I find my crew mates?” She gazed intently at Habris. “One of them is my fiancé,” she added softly. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Habris paused a moment, then sighed. “Give me a couple of days. I might be able to find somebody who can tell me something. Come back for an interview. Readers would be interested in hearing about your, uh, friends here.” 

Wilma smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Habris.”


	7. Chapter 7

Forerunners of Bosk

  
Chapter Seven

Wilma paced the confines of the admiral’s ready room. Her nervous energy and anxiety could not be constrained even while Crichton droned on. 

“Each stargate has a destination possibility factor of from twenty to thirty places of exit, depending on the coordinates given before entrance into said stargate. And that is for just the known destinations. I cannot verify it, but there is the distinct possibility of other exit points that we do not even know about. After all, that is how the existing stargate coordinates came into being,” the robot explained. “Be that as it may, all of the known first stage destination coordinates have been checked. No _Searcher_ shuttlecraft landed during the time frame that was indicated on any of the stargate destination planets. Several most likely destination coordinates were checked from those twenty-three destinations and there has been nothing viable in any of the searches thus far.” __

_ __ _

The admiral held up his hand. They had gone through this before. He didn’t need the robot talking to him like some obstinate cadet to get the picture. “In other words, we cannot feasibly continue to search in this manner unless we have some clue, some kind of hint that will narrow the search down.” 

“Yes, Admiral,” Crichton said stuffily, apparently miffed by the interruption in his explanation. 

“Then it’s just as I thought. Our only recourse is to continue to gather information on Neckar,” Wilma said, stopping and facing the admiral.

“I believe so,” Asimov said. 

“I have someone on the planet trying to find something for me. He said to give him a couple of days. It’s been a few days,” Wilma said. “I think it’s time to see if he has found anything.” 

“I agree, Wilma, but I want you to be careful. I think we’re working with more than greedy businessmen here. I agree with your assessment that there is some off-world connection,” the admiral admitted. “I don’t think it’s unfeasible for us to consider all of Buck’s and Hawk’s enemies and see if there is a connection, something we can work with here.” 

“I will be careful, Admiral,” Wilma said with a strained smile. “And I’ll have Dr. Theopolis and Twiki with me.” 

The admiral only nodded. 

“I am going to go planet side now and meet my contact, with your permission, Admiral.” 

“Yes, by all means. I want to resolve this. I want to find Buck and Hawk quickly.” With a sigh, he got up. Dr. Goodfellow and Lt. Michael Freeman, the temporary exo in charge of defense and exploration, followed suit. Twiki, with Dr. Theopolis around his neck, followed Wilma out the door. 

============================= 

“May I look inside one of your spacecraft?” Habris asked. At Wilma’s skeptical look, he added, “Our readers will really enjoy it and it might predispose them to your favor.” He leaned back and smiled. “There are still folks out there passing around all the sensational stories that have come out of this.” 

Before Wilma could say anything, Theo said, “I do not see why that would be a problem.” The quad sat on the desk, facing Habris. Twiki had been left to watch the shuttle.

Then it dawned on Wilma what Habris might possibly be getting doing here. She nodded, “All right, let’s go now.”

Habris nodded and called over his shoulder to a young clerk in the other room. “Take over, Marc.” 

The Neckarese man ordered a transport similar to what Wilma and Theo had ridden in to see Habris. He asked basic general question all the way to the small spaceport, all of which Wilma or Theo answered as best they could. Not once did Habris mention Mrs. Brock, nor did they ask him about her. Wilma now understood the reason and was willing to wait until they got to her shuttle. 

She showed him aboard the craft after giving Twiki the ident codes. “Anybody come snooping around?” she asked. 

“Yup, a couple of people. I got their pictures on a security vid,” Twiki answered with a knowing beep. “One tried out the door to see if it would open, but he left when it didn’t.” 

“You and Dr. Theopolis check to see if there were any devices left behind,” Wilma ordered. She was beginning to feel an added touch of paranoia, but she was determined to overcome it, and to continue this investigation that would lead to Buck and Hawk’s rescue. She took Habris around the inside of the craft, showing him the various compartments, telling him of their mission aboard the _Searcher_ until Twiki and Theo returned. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“All clear, Wilma,” Twiki said as he stumped up the ramp and back into the shuttle. He punched a button and the door shut behind him, effectively closing them off from listening ears. 

Habris turned off his recording device and said, “I have found out where Brisella Brock is.” 

“Where?” 

“First of all, I am glad you were able to pick up on my subterfuge. Since I saw you last and especially since I have begun making inquiries, as well as comments regarding my feelings about the Ahern family, I have seen evidence that I am being watched. I don’t know if that extends to my office being planted with spying devices or not, but I chose to take no chances.”

“I hope this doesn’t put you in danger, Mr. Habris,” Wilma said in alarm. Having dealt with Erik Kormand and his organization in the recent past, she knew what power some people could wield and as much as she loved Buck and wanted him back, she didn’t want anyone else to come to harm.

“No, I am not worried about myself. I am only worried about the truth. And I feel that the truth is being buried under greed and avaristic activities. The reactions of the Aherns to my investigations just served to verify that,” Habris said. “But the person I am most concerned about is Brisella Brock.”

“I know. I remember what you said earlier and I am well aware of what could happen to her,” Wilma replied with a sigh. 

“It seems that the Aherns are very eager to keep her whereabouts a secret.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I am very curious. You people able to tell if another of your ships is nearby?” 

“Normally, yes, but there are various methods to disguise small craft.” Wilma paused. “And when we first got here we weren’t looking for anything other than evidence of some kind of disaster. If you did your homework you will know that we sent a communiqué of inquiry to your government at the same time that Buck and Hawk landed.” 

“But if the attackers, as well as the kidnappers, were from off-world, they would have been here before the distress signal was set up,” Theo said. “This was very well planned.” 

“Mr. Habris,” Wilma said, interrupting Theo. Her paranoia began kicking in again. “How do we know that you haven’t had contact with off-worlder’s?  
”  


“You don’t, really. I assure you I haven’t, but I’m confident that Joses Ahern has. And the local hotel had a no vacancy sign out for the first time in years just before all this happened.” He smiled. “And there was increased activity at this spaceport. The official story was that they were export specialists from off world interested in our wines. And they acted the part.”

Wilma leaned against the inner bulkhead of the shuttle’s main cargo bay. They had done all the checking they were able to do on Leon Habris and had found no evidence whatsoever that he had done more than make planetary contacts. Of course, if he had really wanted to, he could have contacted anyone on planet, including those who had something to do with Buck and Hawk’s disappearance. But deep down, Wilma knew that Habris was exactly who he said he was, a newspaperman who was curious and who believed their story. And did they really have a choice but to trust this man? How long had Buck and Hawk been gone? A week now? A week of desperate searching through seemingly endless stargates. Wilma had never realized how many possibilities there were, how far humanoids had explored, colonized and developed the star systems in the galaxy. Crichton was still tallying possible destinations and she, Twiki and Theo were trying to find clues here. Sucking in a deep breath, Wilma realized that although this was highly organized, there had to be a mistake somewhere. A chink in that wall of impenetrability. There had to be! Habris could be trusted. There was something about him that appealed to her in a fatherly way. 

“Colonel Deering,” Habris said, his hand resting lightly on her sleeve. “I am not unsympathetic to your plight, but somehow we need to go slowly on this. A woman’s life may depend on it.” 

“What about Buck’s life? Hawk’s?” Wilma retorted, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Going slow may be the very thing that will cause their deaths!”

“It would seem to me that if they wanted your fiancé and his friend dead, you’d have found their bodies by their shuttle a week ago,” Habris pointed out. 

“The shuttle!” Wilma cried out. “Dr. Theopolis, are our operatives working on that angle?” 

“Yes, Wilma,” the quad said. “So far, without success. The shuttle would be very easy to dispose of without any clues left behind.” 

“I know, but I am glad that someone’s mind is still at work.” 

“You have done quite well, Colonel Deering, in trying to find clues where it is nearly impossible to do so. Please do not berate yourself,” Theo assured her.

“I agree,” Habris said. “You’ve gotten me asking some questions that have made a few people uncomfortable.”

Wilma gazed questioningly at him. 

“The Aherns. I believe they are into more than the export of wine and brandy. I believe that the disappearance of many of the Brock’s former slaves and employees is their doing, too.” 

“They have killed them?” Wilma asked. 

Habris rubbed his chin and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I did hear an ugly rumor from someone of the sale of former slaves to markets on other planets.” 

“I will leave you to investigate that one,” Wilma said. “Although I can tell you that there are such markets in the galaxy, unfortunately.” She paused for only a few seconds. “How do I talk to Brisella Brock?” 

“Why not take a lesson from your crewmembers’ kidnappers? Use discretion. Change your appearance a little; get a room at a hotel near where Brisella lives. Leave your friends here on your ship.”

“What?!” squawked Twiki.

“You stand out,” Habris told the ambu-quad. 

“Which city?” Wilma asked. 

“The Aherns have actually made things a bit easier for us,” Habris said with a slight chuckle. “As I had supposed, they have Mrs. Brock in a large old folks’ home in the capital.”

Wilma smiled. “Okay, what would you suggest, besides spending a few days in Dubros acting like a tourist?” 

“Actually not a tourist, a job seeker. Get a job at the center where Mrs. Brock is staying. Take a day or so to figure out the routine, get to know Mrs. ‘Drake.’ That’s Brisela Brock’s name there. Then, with some of your shipmates, get her out of there.” 

For a minute, Wilma could only stare in shock. Then, “What? Get her out? I only want to talk with her.” 

“Brisella Ahern Brock is an old woman. I heard from the only family member that still talks to me, that she is getting somewhat demented. If she’ll open up and talk to you about what happened, then she will most likely tell anyone who asks that she talked to you.” He paused. “I met her a few years ago. About a year after the death of her husband. She’s a grand and gracious old lady. I would hate for anything to happen to her.” Habris looked at Wilma meaningfully. “She is the last of the old-fashioned family matriarchs, but somehow, I don’t think the Aherns would be above having her killed if they thought it would protect their operations, whatever they all are.” 

“I understand,” Wilma told him, even while trying to figure how this could be accomplished without creating a huge incident. “I will try to be as discreet as possible but I still hope to be able to do this without resorting to kidnapping.” She paced away from Habris and then turned and faced him again. “Any suggestions as to the best way to get this job at the old folk’s home?” she asked.

Habris smiled again. “I know someone in the capital with pull. It will not be a problem. You show up with a predetermined name and they’ll hire you.” 

“This seems so unreal,” Wilma murmured. “As though we have all the time in the world.” 

“This is actually very quick,” Habris said. “And when you get her out, it would really be better if the Aherns believed Mrs. Brock dead, but that can’t be helped.” 

Wilma simply nodded, deep in thought. Perhaps if they did this right, they could make it look like the old woman was dead. And perhaps if this worked, they could also ‘kidnap’ an Ahern and get information from him. Wilma kept these thoughts to herself, not wanting to count on things that were certainly not sure.


	8. Chapter 8

Ril Mentua, guard in the mines of Bosk, wealthy on paper, but virtually a prisoner himself, escorted a recently recovered forerunner to a newly discovered ‘slip’ along with two other, more veteran forerunners. He had been in the mines for almost six years, the last one without any kind of off-world leave. While he was free to come and go on the days that he was not working, he had discovered that his activities off Bosk were carefully watched. He had been told that his communications were monitored, probably, even his very conversations. It wasn’t worth it. His contract had cost him one relationship. Perhaps if he had known ahead of time just what this job would have entailed, he would never have taken it. Perhaps. Now, he liked the relative peace that he had when not on duty. Ril had become a loner and it didn’t bother him that much. 

What did bother him, though, was the increased mortality rate among the prisoners. It wasn’t a great increase, but it was enough for him to notice. He had tried not to become emotionally attached to anyone that was sent to the mines, they all died sooner or later, definitely sooner than their natural life spans. That was the only thing that was really hard about his job—the pain he felt seeing them lose their individuality and then become sick and despairing ciphers. Was there anything that could be done to make these men’s lives a bit more humane? No, not really, he had decided at the offset. It had taken him over two years to do it, but he had built an almost impenetrable mental shell against the suffering he saw in these caves. There was nothing he could do about the situation anyway, so he might as well become oblivious to it. But when he was sometimes sitting alone in his quarters near the surface, trying to read, or when he was writing, one or the other of the prisoner’s faces would come into his mind and haunt him. Sometimes he would see them in his dreams, their eyes would brand his wall of indifference. He knew some of the prisoners were simply here because they had made some very rich and powerful person extremely angry with them. No crime, except crossing the wrong entity. Others had been slaves, sold by masters who were tired of them, or tired of continued efforts to escape or revolt. The mines here on Bosk were great neutralizers. 

Now he was escorting three men toward a dangerous assignment that had the potential to bring this part of the cave system down around all of their ears. They were going to try and uncover a rich source of the crillite with a simultaneous blast in three close sections of the cave. _But why? There was never a problem in the past with doing this with just one forerunner. Sure, it takes a bit longer, but it’s also less dangerous and the crillite isn’t going anywhere_, Ril thought. Shrugging, he realized that there was really nothing he could do about it. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

He looked at the notes on the three men. None were shirkers, all seemed to have the instincts to be relatively long-lived and successful forerunners. The newest one, though, was noted to be something of a risk taker. Not careless, by any means, but still…. “You, prisoner twelve-sixteen,” he said. The forerunner stopped and waited, his eyes slightly inquisitive. “Be extra careful on this one, forerunner,” Ril said pointedly to the tall man in front of him. Then he said to all of them, “You are going to be working closer together than is customary. The company wants to uncover a particularly rich deposit of gems and single charges aren’t doing the job.” He paused for effect. “Get your charges in place and then wait for my signal. I’ll give you the time for the charge, then you will hightail it back here to this safe corridor. You understand?” 

The newer forerunner raised his hand. “Am I permitted to ask a question?”

Ril nodded. 

“What happens if someone’s off?” The prisoner, number twelve-sixteen, asked. He had a slight smile as though he suspected the answer.

“You and maybe the rest of us have cheap funerals, forerunner.” 

“What’s the hurry, then? There another shipment of slaves coming in that you have to find cells for?” the forerunner asked sarcastically. 

Ril was taken aback by the bitterly caustic question, but he saw the same kind of resentment in the eyes of the other two forerunners and he paused. Knowing the fate that all forerunners faced; a fate that they didn’t even know until the end, he couldn’t really fault the man his anger. But still, comments like that could cause this man serious punishment. 

“Be careful, forerunner,” he said warningly. “As to the hurry, the company is wanting what’s in this cave and they want it sooner than later. That’s all I know and all I can tell you. Just be careful.” 

The newer forerunner nodded. “Thanks.” 

Ril pointed out their positions and the three men went to work. When all were ready, he gave the time signals and retreated to the main corridor. Within seconds, the first forerunner joined him, then the second, the younger one. Then there was a cry back in the corridor followed almost instantly by two cracking booms of cellenite going off. Before the dust had billowed into their corridor, twelve-sixteen was rushing back down to the blown cave site. After a slight hesitation the other forerunner followed. Ril knew there was an undetonated cellenite packet in there somewhere; he had only heard two explosions. “Wait,” he called out. He caught up with the one forerunner and ordered him back out. The younger man was furiously digging through the rubble, flinging smaller rocks out of the way, moving larger ones to the side. 

“You’ve got to leave. There’s an unblown packet in here somewhere,” Ril ordered. 

“It would have blown by now if it was going to, wouldn’t it?” the forerunner asked, still heaving rocks out of the way.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ril answered. “If the forerunner set it, anything could make it blow, because I set my detonator.” 

“Then we have to work quickly, don’t we?”

“He can’t still be alive,” Ril protested. 

“I thought I heard him moaning,” the prisoner said, his hazel eyes gazing at him meaningfully for a second before going back to moving rocks. Sparkling bits of raw crillite winked everywhere, but Ril ignored the king’s ransom lying at his feet as he began helping the forerunner. 

“It’s impossible,” Ril murmured as he dug through the debris. 

“Impossible or not, I’m going to find him. I won’t leave anyone down here to die alone,” the forerunner declared fiercely. 

Ril saw the determination in the man’s eyes and responded to it in a way he had not done since his first days in the mine. He reached over and began helping the prisoner move some of the larger rocks. “Where do you think he is?” 

“Right here,” the forerunner said, pointing to a mound at the base of the wall, near their feet. 

Side by side the two men worked, joined by the forerunner who had been ordered to stay back in the safer corridor. Ril heard a soft sound and then a louder sound. The buried forerunner was moaning. 

“Hear that?” prisoner twelve-sixteen asked, his voice excited. 

“Yes!” Ril answered and the three men redoubled their efforts. Soon the still form of the fallen forerunner was exposed and the younger man knelt beside him, checking for a pulse. 

“He’s still alive,” the prisoner declared. “But he needs medical attention immediately. I don’t know if he has serious head injuries, but I don’t think we can wait for help to find out.” 

“I doubt they’d be in a great hurry to come here anyway,” Ril said matter-of-factly. “Still dangerous.” 

The prisoner snorted derisively and as gently as he could, picked up the injured man. “What do they usually do? Leave this as a burial cairn?” Then he looked around and laughed bitterly. “No, eventually he’d have been uncovered. Too much crillite laying around.”

While Ril knew the prisoner was right, he felt the man was going into dangerous territory with his sarcasm. “Prisoner twelve-sixteen….” 

The forerunner had the man securely in his arms and had straightened up. “My name is Buck Rogers. I am not a number,” he said softly, but clearly. “And I will not die a slave!” He began walking out of the blast site. 

Ril nodded and walked at his side. “Be careful, forerunner. We will soon be where they can monitor us.”

Only for a second did the forerunner pause and look at him and then he nodded. His eyes had lost their fierce and angry edge. “Which way to the medical facilities? I’m not sure.” 

“I have to gather collectors. I will go with you part of the way,” Ril said and then turned to the other forerunner. “You get the cannons and follow.” The guard slung the cellenite packs of all three men over his shoulder. 

They passed several other groups and as they did so, all of the prisoners stopped momentarily and bowed their heads. Ril saw the depth of each man’s caring as well as their desperation for the first time since he had built his ‘wall of immunity.’ _Rogers, no twelve-sixteen_, Ril corrected himself. _I have to think of this man as a prisoner, not an individual_, he thought frantically. It’s better that way, much better. Because twelve-sixteen will eventually die, just as the man in his arms will die, and there will be no one to mourn either man’s passing. _Except me_, Ril thought sadly.______

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

In the week that followed, Ril could not forget the little scene. It was in his mind when he wasn’t concentrating on other things and it was in his dreams. It was almost like a culmination of all that he had seen and shoved out of his consciousness, all that he had tried to ignore for the past decade. He realized that he was dangerously close to becoming too affected by all of this but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Without actually planning on doing it, Ril checked on the prisoner’s data. Twelve-sixteen was way overdue his release from probation. Ril figured that would be a small thing he could do to assuage his conscience. At the end of his shift, he approached the shift supervisor, a pasty white-skinned, dark-eyed Brufixal man of short stature, but gigantic ego. “Leader,” Ril began. 

“One of the prisoners giving you problems?” 

“No, Leader, just the opposite,” Ril replied.

The Leader just raised one dark bushy eyebrow in query.

“There is one on my roster that was due termination of probation a month ago. Twelve-sixteen.” 

The Brufixal just snorted in derision. “That one is on special probationary status. Indefinite. Heard he was a troublemaker.” 

“He has done exemplary work,” Ril pointed out. 

“Dr. Beros’ orders. You going to counter them?” 

Ril was taken aback. “No,” he said quickly. “Any others I need to know about?” 

“Yeah, a birdman. He is also on extended probationary.”

“Troublemaker, too?” Ril asked. 

“Yes.” 

And that, thought Ril, was that. 

==============================

Hawk began to feel closed in. More than the dim, gray walls, his mind began to feel as though it were enclosed in a tiny box, one where the sun, wind, sky and stars were just figments of his imagination. He sat on his stone bunk and held his head in his hands. His bowl of gruel dinner sat untouched next to him._ Koori! Koori, where are you? Come to me, my love. Come to me and take me with you to your place of peace and softness and tranquility_. But there was no answer. Nothing. Nothing but cold, hardness and unremitting despair. He was stripped of all that he was, everything but his soul and even that felt as though it was being eaten from within as with a cancer. His mind burned with anger, his heart with longing for freedom. He had signaled to Buck his dedication to escape and to obtaining that freedom, but several weeks later, he was no closer to that goal. There seemed to be no way to get out, the leaders of this prison had seemingly thought of everything. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Now all he longed for was to die and be reunited with Koori, his beloved. He found himself wishing that he had stayed with the Tane-rapanui on Mendalis. He found himself wishing he had been put to death by the tribunal. Anything but this unremitting cold hell that was life in these mines. 

Suddenly, Hawk threw back his head and cried out the ancient challenge of his people, the challenge that would either frighten his enemies into submission or let them know that a warrior was ready to battle to the death. The bars ignored him, but the guard did not. With a growl, the burly human unlocked his cell door and grabbed him by the front of this shirt. And Hawk responded. All of his pent up frustration, his anger and bitterness, along with the increased strength that working in the mines had added to his arms and shoulders came into play as he broke the guard’s hold and then shoved the human head first against the door of his cell. With only a soft groan, the guard slid unconscious to the ground. Hawk glanced into the corridor. He had cast his lot to chance and had to accept that whether there was the possibility of escape or not, he would have to try. Reaching down, he grabbed the human’s stun pistol and then stepped out of his cell. Seeing no one, Hawk dashed in the direction that he felt would lead him toward the entrance to the mine. 

As he made it down one corridor and into another without being detected, Hawk began to feel the slight stirrings of hope. He stopped abruptly when he heard voices ahead of him. They didn’t seem to be coming any closer so he quietly slipped to the end of the corridor and peered around the corner. Two guards were deep in conversation, but they would still easily see him if he tried to go down the other way. Although Hawk felt he could overpower the two humans, he did not want his escape known until it would be too late for them to do anything. 

But what about Buck? Where is he? Hawk took a moment and pondered that dilemma. To find Buck and then get out undetected would be next to impossible. Better to get out, get help and return and find Buck. But Hawk couldn’t leave his friend behind in this place, impossible or not. And Buck may possibly have a better idea of where things were in the mines, especially the exit. With that decision made, Hawk turned back toward the humans. He would have to get the information from one of them in order to find Buck. Carefully he peered around the corner and saw the two men totally engrossed in something that one of them held. Their backs were to him. 

Silently, Hawk slid around the corner, staying close to the rough rock wall. As he approached them, one of the humans straightened up, as though sensing something. And in that moment, Hawk struck, knocking the first guard against the back of the head, grabbing the second one as the first fell unconscious to the ground. Hawk hissed into the man’s ear even as his arm squeezed around the human’s neck and forced him into submission. When the guard struggled, Hawk shoved the stun pistol against his side. “Where is the human named Buck Rogers?” 

The human wheezed softly as he struggled to suck in enough air. “Prisoners . . . don’t have names….” 

“This one does. Tall, only been here a month, a forerunner.” 

“Don’t know. Don’t work . . . in that section. Only . . . a birdman came into this section then.” 

“Where is the other section where forerunners are kept?” Hawk asked, jabbing the man’s side with the pistol for emphasis. 

“Down that corridor, then . . . left,” the man gasped. “Continue left.” 

Without another word, Hawk struck the human against the side of the head, and as the guard fell across his unconscious compatriot, he went in the direction indicated. At the next juncture of corridors, Hawk listened and then peered around, his eyes taking in every corner and shadow in the dimness. Then one of the shadows detached itself from the wall and before Hawk could duck back, the shadow fired a laser pistol at him.


	9. Chapter 9

“Hey, Forerunner,” the guard said as Buck gathered his breakfast ‘porridge’ from the server. 

He quickly looked at it in disgust before turning his attention to the guard. Same breakfast, same dinner; nothing in between. Not that he hadn’t needed to drop a few pounds, but he’d had to tighten his belt several times since he came to this hole. With a sigh, he looked at the guard, then pointed to himself. 

“Yeah, you. It’s Recreation Day.” 

Buck’s eyebrow raised in inquiry and puzzlement. “Uh, what does one do on Recreation Day, if I may ask?” 

“You use the recreation room and exercise, or lay around under a sun lamp,” the guard told him. “What do you think you would do?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even aware that there was such a thing,” Buck replied a bit sarcastically. At a dour look from the guard, he shut up. 

“There is and in your case it was for your efforts in saving that injured forerunner last week,” the guard said. “As soon as you eat your breakfast, a ‘privileged’ will take you.” 

Buck nodded and turned back to his food. He wondered if Hawk would be there. Then he wondered if anyone would be and if so would he still be under the same edict of silence that he had been since his arrival. It had seemed forever, this probation. Buck knew that he was well beyond the two weeks that Beros had told him probation was, but the only time he had asked, he had almost had a stun pistol shoved down his throat. Somehow, he couldn’t help but think that he had been singled out for ‘special treatment.’ Or maybe Beros hadn’t cared for his comments when they had first met. Needless to say, though, his behavior not only effected his treatment, but more importantly, Hawk’s. So he had been careful since that day in Beros’ office. Only that time when the blast had gone wrong had he lost his cool and gone dangerously close to a punishment. 

Buck continued to think about Hawk, wondering how he was coping in this vision from some sadist’s most elaborate version of hell. The spoonful of mush paused halfway to his mouth. Buck wished that his friend had followed through on his desire to stay with his own people. Hawk would be free right now. Buck sighed, shoving aside the useless could-have-beens, would-have-beens, might-have-beens and ate, not even tasting the bland mush, and certainly long past gagging over its cloying texture. It was sustenance, after all. 

Buck began to wonder anew about this ‘Recreation Day’ and could only guess that even the cretins that ran this operation saw the benefit in giving the prisoners some diversion from the torment of endless mining and blasting. There began to be some small stirrings of anticipation about this Recreation Day. While still feeling that such a thing must be too good to be true, Buck finished his breakfast quickly. A ‘privileged,’ a middle-aged man, beckoned and Buck tossed his bowl and spoon into the wash bin and followed. They walked down a corridor that ended in a large cavernous room with bright enough lights to dispel all shadows. 

Buck blinked at the bright light and looked around. The ceiling was almost cathedral like, partly natural and partly carved out. There was a tall lip of stone along one side, almost like a natural running track, but he knew that it was just something that was there. It appeared that it served as a place to allow the electrical conduits. Dr. Huer would gaze at such a set-up and make a comment on its primitive-ness. Right now, though, it seemed almost homey until he reminded himself where he was. Buck continued to gaze around. The floor had been smoothed enough to lay a hard wooden covering on it. Around the outsides of the cavern, there were benches, some with individual lamps, presumably the sunlamps that the guard had mentioned. There were balls of various sizes lying in racks along with other sports implements. There were various exercise bars and other equipment mounted on the walls. Buck saw a few men on the opposite side of the room, bare-chested, grappling in what appeared to be something very close to Olympic style wrestling. It was indeed a recreation room and Buck wondered at the extra expense that had to have gone into this. 

“Enjoy yourself, forerunner,” the privileged said. “It only happens once in a great while.”

“How long do I have in heaven?” he asked, still staring about him in the wonder of it. 

“At least half a day, forerunner,” his guide said with a chuckle. “But don’t get any ideas about taking some of the equipment and trying to cause a riot or escape. They monitor this place.” He pointed to various places on the stone walls and Buck saw devices that looked like video equipment. 

“I’ll remember that,” Buck answered, walking over to one of the benches and looking it over. 

“Someone will be back when your time is up.” The privileged turned and left. 

With a sigh, Buck lay down and relaxed as the lights bathed him in soft warmth. He closed his eyes and pretended to be on the beach out on the Cape. That lasted for only a few minutes. Nothing could dispel the totality of his imprisonment. Restless, he got up and walked the perimeter of the cavern. There was a room off to one side, that when he peered in the doorway, seemed to be a locker room of sorts, complete with showers. _Showers!! Honest to goodness showers!_ With a grin, he started in, already feeling the pleasure of warm, clean water on his skin. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Forerunner, you aren’t allowed in there,” a voice told him from behind. 

Buck turned and saw a guard approaching him, an irritated expression on his face. Gazing at the room one more time, he shrugged and turned back to the cavern. “A guy can hope, I suppose.” Buck was astonished at how his world had narrowed to desires for simple things like showers, decent meals and warmth. It made so many other things he had felt important, to absolute and ridiculous insignificance. Then anger began to supplant the disappointment. He barely had enough water in his cell to quench his thirst most days, much less brush his teeth or bathe. Some days he went thirsty in order to maintain some tiny semblance of hygiene. And here were showers, empty and begging for a dirty forerunner to use. 

“I don’t even know why they are letting prisoners in here during our time off,” another guard growled. 

Buck took a deep breath, trying to rein in his growing irritation. It would do no good to antagonize the guards, knowing that it would most likely curtail his use of this facility. With a shrug, Buck simply smiled innocently and said, “I guess I was a good boy and Santa Claus gave me my Christmas present early.” 

“Santa Claus?” The frown deepened. “Are you trying to be clever with me?” 

“No, when I saw the showers, I was only hoping that I could take a few moments to get clean,” Buck said evenly, still trying to temper his anger. “That’s all.” 

“This is for the guards. There are places for prisoners to shower.” 

“Where?” 

“Over there,” the guard said, pointing to the other side of the room. 

“Thanks,” Buck said. He sauntered over to the other room and saw a much smaller, dim and dank room. The showers consisted of crude conduits with a faucet-type control under each one. There were only a few such showers, but Buck wasn’t going to be picky. He wasn’t going to be picky about the dim light, the roughhewn, damp walls and the slightly slippery, stone floor. After pulling off his boots, he walked over and turned the faucet, standing under the conduit, clothes and all. Only once during his sojourn here had he been given a change of clothes and like his body, he had done his best to clean them with the tiny bit of water in his cell. Here was the opportunity get thoroughly clean. 

However, when the water hit him, he almost cried out in shock. It was as cold as ice. His skin crawled and his teeth chattered, but Buck endured. It was water and there was plenty of it. Nearby was a small shelf bolted on the rock wall. It held a bar of soap and a depilatory. _Even better_, he thought, grabbing the items and returning to the Arctic waterfall. Quickly stripping off his clothes, he bathed, took off his beard and then he washed his clothes. He turned off the faucet, wrung his clothes out, and put them back on. With his boots in his hands, Buck quickly dashed across the cavern and lay under one of the sun lamps. Soon he had stopped shivering and felt the warmth of the heat lamps penetrating the damp clothes. Rolling over, Buck lay quietly, letting his clothes dry, almost falling asleep before getting back up with a satisfied sigh. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

He wandered toward the other side of the cavern. Pulling one of the balls out of a rack, he bounced it on the ground. It had the size and feel of a basketball, and although hoops weren’t exactly his forte, it was something familiar. Buck remembered the one-on-one games that he and his brother used to play, the friendly and sometimes not so friendly competitions among his fellow Air Force cadets. The ball had a nice bounce to it and Buck began dribbling it back and forth across the cavern floor. There were chinning bars attached to the stone wall that were a few feet shy of the right height for regulation basketball hoops and Buck headed toward one, continuing to dribble. _Still have it_, he gloated mentally. Passing the ball back and forth, changing hands, dribbling forward and then backward, as though avoiding a defensive guard. He continued across the cavern, pointedly ignoring the few guards who were exercising on the opposite end of the rec room. As he approached the chinning bar, Buck stopped short, pivoted on one foot and then launched his shot. It sailed over the bar and behind it, bouncing on the ground a couple of times before he scooped it up and began his dribbling again. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Trying to take his mind off of the past weeks, Buck immersed himself in plays, moves and strategies against imaginary foes. Then he approached the quasi-goal and tried a slam-dunk. Leaping up, he shoved the ball behind the chinning bar even as he grabbed it. With a grin, Buck chinned himself and then let go. It didn’t matter that the lack of height of the bar was to his advantage in a makeshift game of basketball, it only mattered that this was the first fun he had enjoyed since his capture and subsequent enslavement.

“What do you call that, forerunner?” someone called out from behind him. 

Buck straightened up from gathering up the ball and faced the approaching guard. “Basketball. Big sport from my neck of the woods.”

“Basketball? Never heard of it.” 

“I don’t doubt it. But it’s over five hundred years old, regardless.” Buck grinned. “It’s a team sport. Need at least five players on each side for a regulation game, but you can make do with less for informal play.” 

“How do you play? Doesn’t look that complicated,” the guard said. He looked familiar to Buck. 

“Well, it would be better if you had a basket instead of the chinning bar, and if it was a few feet higher, but we can make do,” Buck replied. The other two guards looked a bit dubious. 

“Basket?” the guard asked. 

“Sure, it’s a hoop with a net hanging down. In the very beginning, the inventor used peach baskets nailed to trees,” Buck said. Then he grinned. “It was hell trying to climb up and retrieve balls until someone got the bright idea of cutting a hole in the bottom.” 

The guard smiled back and Buck recognized him. It was the same guard that helped him dig out the injured forerunner. “Let me show you how to dribble the ball,” he suggested. 

“What is the purpose of doing something like that?” one of the other men asked with a snort when Buck had demonstrated. 

“Wouldn’t be sporting if you could just pick up the ball and run with it,” Buck replied. “There has to be some challenge. Now you come after me and try to keep me from making a field goal. You can’t punch, hit or knock the ball handler around, but there is a certain amount of contact allowed.” 

“Field goal?” the first guard asked. 

“That’s when you shoot the ball toward the basket. If you get it in, then it’s a goal. Two points.” 

“Oh.” 

“If you do it from half court, it’s three points.” Buck showed them how to guard and block and then began dribbling toward the goal, pivoting and moving in another direction when the men began closing on him. Buck dodged and weaved, slowly moving the ball toward the chinning bar. The guards began to get into the game, waving their arms, coming close to batting the ball away. Finally Buck pushed past one guard, stopped, and shot. The ball sailed over the chinning bar and bounced on the ground. “That was great blocking,” he puffed. “And a great workout.” 

“Could we play two on two?” the familiar guard asked. 

“Sure,” Buck replied. They paired up and played, Buck showing the guards more moves and plays as he remembered them. 

During a short break, Buck’s partner, the familiar guard, leaned against the wall and chuckled. “I don’t think I have had a better diversion since I began here.” 

Buck looked at him in curiosity. “How long has that been?”

“About six years.” The guard looked at Buck. In a softer voice, one that only Buck could hear, he said, “I am Ril, by the way.” 

Buck nodded and then frowned. He felt the beginnings of a headache and wondered if that freezing shower and then the intense workout might have been too much. But then he dismissed it; he had done far worse in the Air Force Academy. He took the ball and began playing again, then stopped when he noticed his hands shaking. “What the….?” he murmured. Buck stopped and tried to catch his breath. Apparently, he had done too much. Just a rest, that was all he needed. He sat down on one of the smaller benches.

“Are you all right?” Ril asked. The other two guards stood back and watched him. 

“Yeah, overdid it, I think,” Buck answered. “Just need to rest a bit.” He lay down and tried to get comfortable. He continued to lie there a while as the others began to play more basketball. Their laughter floated in and out of his consciousness as he wondered what was wrong with him. This was more than being out of shape. And then Buck realized that he had not received his shot earlier in the day. The one that was supposed to get rid of the parasitic condition. _Apparently not yet. But I don’t have the same symptoms as before_. _However, this place isn't exactly a healthy environment_, he thought sardonically. _Just have a cold or something, that’s all._______

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“You sure you’re all right?” Ril asked. His concern, unlike the others, seemed genuine. 

“Yeah, I’m all right,” Buck said. “Just needed a break.” And to prove his point, he got up and joined in the play. His headache continued, but the trembling had eased up and he got the ball and began dribbling down the court. As he made another field goal, he found his lungs laboring to draw in enough air. Apparently, he was not over his problem with the parasites. The drug, while quick acting, didn’t eradicate the problem. And the idea of something growing inside his body continued to disturb him. 

As soon as he caught his breath, Buck began to play again. But as he was trying to guard one of the men, Buck felt light-headed, his heart thundering in his chest, which was heaving to draw in air. Suddenly he found himself on the floor, Ril’s face close to his. “No, not . . . all right. Parasite. Not over it.” 

“You have your medicine this morning? Ril asked. 

“No.” 

“I think you’ll breathe easier if you are sitting up. Then I’ll call medical,” he said as he helped Buck to a bench. 

The pain in his head was a throbbing that warred with his struggle for air. Buck tried to stand up, but fell back on the bench, hacking and choking. He moaned, saw his hands shaking again, but he wasn’t cold. On the contrary, he felt the sweat rolling down his face. He was miserable as hell. He sat quietly, concentrating on breathing slowly and deliberately, and finally he began to feel some semblance of relief.


	10. Chapter 10

Hawk was left in his cell the next morning; left to his thoughts, which were bitter and despairing. Even though he was well aware that his escape chances had been practically non-existent, still, the idea that he had actually been free from his cell and then so quickly recaptured, was a very bitter pill to swallow. He had not even found Buck, much less figured a way out of the mines. He had not received breakfast, but he quenched his thirst from the little cistern and cleaned up as best as he could with the water that had gathered during the night. 

Now Hawk sat on his cold stone bench waiting, wondering what the punishment would be for his escape attempt. He waited and paced and then he decided to conserve energy as best he could and dozed on his hard stone bench. And as he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of Koori. They were in his ship, flying over the mountains of Throm, skipping across the stratosphere, then flying through the clouds. They hovered next to monstrously tall thunderheads, watching the yellow and blue flashes of pent up energy. Koori leaned forward and kissed him on the neck and he shivered with pleasure. _Ah, Koori, my love_. Her elegant long fingers lightly caressed the sides of his face and he laughed. “Koori, do you wish me to lose control and crash?” Hawk heard her answering laughter. It was like the soft, warm breezes through the limbs of the trees, it was like sunshine sparkling on the water. It was like freedom. _Koori_! He put the ship on autopilot and turned in his seat, taking off his gauntlets and gently holding her face in his hands. The light scent of her body oils further aroused him and Hawk fiercely kissed her. He was hungry for her, for her warmth, for her love. ____

_ _ __ _ _

“Birdman!” 

Koori drifted away, her fingers slipping out of his fingers even as sleep slipped away into wakefulness. A burning hot flame of disappointment and anger grew in his chest and he leaped up off his bed, ready to battle the one taking this brief moment of gentleness and pleasure from him. Then realization of his surroundings and his situation took hold and the anger melted away, leaving only emptiness. He sighed deeply. “Yes?” 

“You’re to follow me. And don’t do anything foolish,” the guard told him. “It won’t be a stun shot this time if you do.” 

Hawk simply nodded and stepped out of his cell when the guard opened the door. He noticed another guard, who fell in behind him as he followed the first one. They walked down several corridors until they reached a doorway. At a word from the guard, the door slid open and Hawk blinked at the sudden, increased light. He walked in the room and then stopped, gazing at the human who had greeted him at the beginning of his captivity. This was evidently the man in charge of this operation. There was a cold and menacing aura about him as though he had all the power in the world. And indeed, thought Hawk, down here he does. 

“You tried to escape last night,” the man said. 

Hawk said nothing. The human had made a simple statement; it was not a question. 

“And you have found out just how futile that is.” The human walked a bit closer to him and studied him. “I am Dr. Beros, by the way, the head administrator. Understand that I determine who lives and dies here.” He paused. “You came close to dying last night.” 

“Everyone here dies,” Hawk said simply. 

“Some die earlier than others,” Beros said tersely. “I am assuming that you were trying to find your friend.” When Hawk said nothing, he walked over to a console and slid back a door, which revealed a blank vid screen. “Watch. You will be able to see your friend.” Beros pushed a button and the screen lit up to reveal what looked to be an exercise room built into a cavern-like area of great proportion. Hawk saw Buck get up from a bench and begin playing some kind of game, basketball, he thought Buck had called it, with several other men. They played fast and furious for a while and then Buck stopped, gasping for air. Hawk could tell that something was not right, but within a few minutes Buck was playing again. Then after a short while of playing he stopped once more, the ball dropped from his hands and he swayed slightly, one hand to his head. One of the other men began to approach him, seemingly concerned, and then Buck collapsed to the floor. Alarmed, Hawk began to step forward, almost trying to help Buck by his will alone, but he stopped himself. There was absolutely nothing he could do and he had to maintain his control in front of this human. Especially this one. Hawk continued to watch, horrified by what he was seeing. Would Buck die here before either one of them had a chance to escape? The man got down beside Buck, talked to him a moment, and then helped him up and to a bench where his terran friend sat with his head in his hands. Buck still seemed to be gasping for air and when he tried to stand up again, he collapsed back onto the bench. 

“What is the matter with him?” Hawk asked quietly. 

“Something that most human forerunners pick up,” Beros said, watching the birdman with interest. That the prisoner was greatly concerned about his friend was very apparent. That he would do what was wanted of him, Beros had no doubt. It had apparently worked with the other man, this Buck Rogers. “It is a microscopic parasite that lives best in the lungs. Without treatment, the infected individual will eventually die of asphyxiation. Your friend seems to be a little more susceptible to it than most.” 

Hawk didn’t doubt that Buck’s susceptibility was due to his slightly different physiology, but the idea that Buck was sitting there suffering appalled him. And only the one man was willing to help him. “You said there was a treatment?” 

“Yes, there is. It retards the progression of the parasitic invasion.” 

“Then why hasn’t Buck been treated?” Hawk asked, trying to keep his voice even. While he was anxious at the sight of his friend struggling for breath, he would not beg or grovel. Not yet, anyway. 

“Oh, he has been. For the last two weeks. However, it is an ongoing course of therapy.” Beros paused for a moment. “His continued treatment is entirely up to you, forerunner,” the administrator said in a quiet voice. 

Hawk gazed at the human, gauging him, feeling he was pretty certain of what was coming next. “Why do you say that?” 

“I believe you wouldn’t want your friend to die, but he will if you try another stunt like the one you pulled last night. And as you see, he would die rather painfully,” Beros said coldly and then paused for effect. “In other words, Buck Rogers’ life is in your hands.” 

Hawk watched Buck as he sat quietly on the bench. His color seemed a bit better than just a few minutes previously, but he still appeared to be in distress. And Hawk knew that there was nothing else he could say. “Yes, I agree to your terms.” 

“No escape attempts, no insurrections, no sabotage,” Beros said. 

“I will do none of those things.” 

“Good,” Beros said with a smile, reaching over and turning off the vid screen. 

“How do I know that my friend will receive the treatment he needs?” 

Beros gazed coldly at him. “You don’t. But I have even more invested in prisoner twelve-sixteen, your friend, than I do in you.” He paused a minute, his cold gray eyes boring into Hawk’s eyes, as though making a point. “Do not make any trouble or you will both die.” 

Hawk said nothing, only holding the human’s gaze until Beros turned away to call the guard. 

========================== 

Buck vaguely remembered being helped to the medical facility by Ril, but remembered little else until shortly before he was escorted back to his little cell. By then he was breathing better, and his headache was subsiding, but he still felt a slight touch of nausea, and overpowering weakness. He didn’t know if he slept or not, but after a while even the weakness seemed to subside and Buck sat up, wondering what time it was. 

A guard appeared in front of his cell. “You will come with me.” 

Buck started to ask a question, but the austerity of the man’s look quelled that desire quickly. _Getting so tired of this. All of it!_ But right now, he was too tired to do anything other than playing the game, acting the part. _Acting the part? Ha!_ At this point Buck didn’t give a damn about anything. His breathing was still a bit off, but he was able to keep up with the guard without having to stop to get his breath. They passed the sick bay, the equipment area and then the guard motioned him into a room that was not familiar, even if the area was. And before him sat Dr. Beros. ____

_ _ __ _ _

“I see you are feeling better.” 

It was not a question, so Buck played it safe and didn’t say a word. 

Beros smiled, looking very satisfied with himself. “I want you to understand that the company has invested a great deal in you and your bird friend, but if either one of you becomes too troublesome, then you will be terminated.” He paused and then got up from his chair and walked up to Buck. “The recreation time was as stated, a reward for trying to save another forerunner’s life.” 

Buck couldn’t help it. He knew that everyone from Beros on down knew all the ins and outs of this parasitic condition. They knew what would happen to him. “And the withholding of medication?” 

“That was for deliberately disobeying a guard who told you to stay in the corridor-- and for your attitude. You don’t talk the way you did to those above you.” 

Actually Buck remembered Ril telling him how dangerous it was in the cave where the explosions had occurred. Nothing more. Then again, who could tell? It had been quite tense at the time and right now he didn’t feel like arguing any points with Beros. As to his attitude? He was guilty as charged, even though what he had said had been the truth. Buck just nodded. 

“Glad you understand. And I assume that how sick you were earlier today will be remembered the next time you decide to be arbitrary or independent,” Beros said smugly. 

“Yessir,” Buck said softly.

“You are dismissed.” Beros watched as Rogers was taken from his office. The prisoner was vastly different than the self-assured, cocky man he had been when first brought to the mines. And in such a short time, too. From what he had been told, Beros had figured that these two would be harder to crack. But they all broke here in the mines. And there was certainly nothing superhuman about either of these men. Laughing softly, Beros made the entry in his log of the visits of both the birdman and Rogers. If these two broke as he had assured the Human Rights organization they would, then it would add almost twenty thousand credits to his own personal bank account. He rubbed his chin. Of the two, it was the birdman who bothered him the most. Despite the fact that he had given in, there was something still inside the birdman that caused Beros a bit of anxiety. Maybe it was simply something to do with the fact that he was a birdman. There were so many rumors about that race. But this one would eventually be broken, too. And anticipating that time made Beros smile. 

Actually, Beros had lied to both men about the investment of the company towards their purchase. They had paid very little for these two. LeeGrand and his group had taken the first offer, a basic bid, not even trying to haggle for a higher price. He had wanted them in the mines very badly, LeeGrand had. Beros smiled as he lit a small cigar. He puffed on his cigar and blew a smoke ring into the air. These two must have hurt the Human Rights organization in the very worst way. Someday he would have to make some inquiries and find out more than the idle rumors he had heard. He puffed out a cloud of blue-gray smoke. Someday. 

Buck was handed his bread and bowl of stew and escorted back to his cell. Since he still felt a bit queasy, he only nibbled on his bread and then lay down, pulling his blanket over him. As he dozed, he heard the lyrics of an old song in his head, 

“Hello darkness, my old friend,  
I’ve come to talk with you again,  
Because a vision softly creeping,  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,  
And the vision that was planted in my brain,  
Still remains, within the sound of silence.” 

And it refrained itself over and over, melody and all. He remembered when he was last on Earth. Dr. Junius had found several old music disks from his time and had been as excited as a little boy. “Buck, my boy, you can’t imagine what I found,” Dr. Junius had told him. He carried a box small enough to make Buck wonder just what could have made the good doctor so excited. 

“A Nintendo player to go with that Mario Brothers game you found earlier this year?”  
“No, no, no, Buck. This is even better.” 

“Some Ben and Jerry’s?” 

Dr. Junius had looked blank at that one, but knowing Buck, he just shook his head and then grinned again. “No, I found some intact books and some more music.” 

“As long as it’s not some of that Lawrence Welk you found last time,” Buck had said with a laugh. “Or the copy of Dr. Spock.” 

“Oh, no, the music is more like that Four Dog, uh, Night, that you said you liked so well.” 

“Really? And that’s Three Dog Night, not Four Dog Night,” Buck corrected. “Don’t tell me you found ‘Jeremiah was a Bull Frog’.” 

“I’m sorry, Buck. I don’t think that was one of them,” Junius said, looking momentarily sad. 

Buck had immediately regretted his words. Dr. Junius seemed to feel it was his life’s mission to not only recover all that he could of the past, but to provide Buck with as much of it as he could. “Hey, Doc, don’t sweat it. I’m just kidding you anyway. I know I’ll like what you found.” 

The doctor’s boyish smile returned and opening the box, he had invited Buck to peek inside. There were several books, all of which held some interest to him and there were several disks of music. He was delighted. There was CCR, Chicago and then there was one that he could have done without, Simon and Garfunkel, not particularly liking folk-type music. But Buck wouldn’t have said anything at all to his friend to hurt his feelings, so he had grinned and clapped the doctor on the back. “Wow, Doc! You really found some great stuff. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” And really, he did appreciate what the archivist had done for him in finding all these things. Dr. Junius had helped to take the edge off his ‘future shock’ by providing him with these small links to his past. 

“Put one of them on,” Doctor Junius had said, pulling out the Simon and Garfunkel disk. 

And Buck had done so and then set the box of books and disks on the table of his Earthside apartment. He would be going back to the Searcher in a day or two and there was no need to put anything away. His greatest pleasure in the discovery of these old songs and albums was watching his friend’s face whenever he tried out something. Often Dr. Junius would make Buck replay the music so he could hear each word, then ask Buck what the singer had meant. This time was no exception, so the words had stuck in his brain and the melancholy of the tune had resurfaced now in the mental darkness of his soul and the physical blackness of this cave. And it became even more poignant than the doom and gloom pre-Holocaustic song had been five hundred years before. 

_“Hello darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again_…………”__


	11. Chapter 11

In a distant quadrant, a very beautiful, but extremely angry Draconian woman paced, much as an agitated earth cat would. Her eyes were icy flames, fires of indignation and frustration. She was the heir apparent for her father’s throne and she was still being treated like a child. “How dare you dispose of my servants without my knowledge, much less my permission? Who do you think you are, Kane?” 

“I am your father’s most devoted servant and as such….”

“Which also makes you my servant! And you will do nothing behind my back!” Ardala stormed. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Highness, but you must also remember that there have been four attempts on your life in the past several weeks. The last one was much too close for comfort,” Kane argued. 

“Then get a better security system!” Ardala retorted. “And do not forget that Tigerman foiled the first three attempts, Kane. He proved his loyalty . . . proved it much better than that insipid Pantherman. Just because the would-be assassins got past him this last time was only bad luck on his part." 

“It would have been bad luck on your part, Highness, if you had been killed,” Kane replied. 

“I had things very well in hand,” she said smugly, remembering the defensive move Tigerman had taught her after the second attempt on her life. Fleetingly, she wondered at this increased interest in her early demise. She also wondered at the fact that for all that the assassins seemed able to get past the automated palace defenses, defenses that were supposed to be the best in the galaxy, these people seemed to have been rather clumsy when they got into her presence. Shaking her head, Ardala knew she had to return to the present matter of the insubordination of Kane.

“And it helped that I was alert and nearby to protect you, Princess,” Kane reminded her. 

“Yes, a day late and dollar short,” she murmured, using a phrase that Buck Rogers had said to her a while back. 

“What?” Kane asked, puzzled. 

“Something I learned from a friend, Kane,” she said tersely. “Never mind. I want to know where you have sent Tigerman. Now!” 

“Your father took care of the actual arrangements,” Kane snapped, irritated that the princess was still bringing up that insufferable Buck Rogers, if not by name then by other reminders. He was sure that was something the Directorate captain would have said. 

“After you complained to him. Made him think that Tigerman was incompetent to protect me,” retorted Ardala. 

“I was reporting to your father as I have been ordered by him to do,” he said, wholeheartedly wishing an end to this conversation. “Maybe you are not, but he is very grateful for my diligence.” 

“You would think you had arranged for these assassination attempts yourself, just to gain my father’s favor, Kane.” Ardala didn’t know where that came from, but it had and the idea, while ridiculous, wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility. Kane was very ambitious and had not hidden the fact that he wanted to marry her to further his status in the Draconian Empire. But no, Kane didn’t have the backbone to do such a thing. He was about as predictable as a Thorian slug worm, always heading toward water.

Kane flinched as though struck, but composed himself quickly. “How could you think such a thing, Princess? I am your loyal….”

“Don’t worry, Kane. If I thought you had the temerity to do such a thing, I would have had you executed in a second. Now leave me!” 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Kane said, his voice somewhat mocking even as he sounded contrite. He bowed and backed away. “But do remember, Princess Ardala, it was you who ordered Tigerman’s extermination that time a couple of years ago.” 

“Get out!” 

As the door slid shut behind him, Ardala paced the opulent confines of her bedroom suite. And the android, which bore an irritatingly close resemblance to Kane, followed a discretionary six paces behind her. Another one, also resembling the unctuous courtier, stood at the door. Ardala stood at the view port of her lower-continent vacation palace gazing at the brilliantly purple-hued sunset, thinking. Just what was that look on Kane’s face when she had baited him? For a second or two he had actually appeared fearful. Why? Could he have had something to do with these assassination attempts? But why, she wondered? It would not do him any good if she were dead. And just what was Kane afraid of? She remembered her previous thoughts—how inept the attempts were. Could this have all been done to impress her father? _Why that heesuul, that slinking, sneaky heesuul. Kane just wanted to impress Father so he could marry me. And this ploy might just well succeed if I don’t do something quickly_. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Her anger increased, but she saw no solution, so she threw herself onto her bed, the android bodyguard standing a few paces away from the bed. Glaring at the robotic creature, she snapped, “Go away! You are dismissed.” 

“I cannot do that, mistress. We are ordered to protect your person.” 

“You don’t have to stand so closely.”

“It has been ordered.” 

“Who ordered it?” Ardala demanded. 

“The Royal Courtier, Kane, Your Highness,” the android said. 

“Do I not rank higher than Kane?” she hissed. 

“Our programming supersedes your rank, Your Highness,” came the answer. 

“What?!!” Ardala cried out in indignation. 

“Our programming….” 

“Never mind!” Ardala calmed quickly. She wasn’t a programmer, so there was nothing she could do. Her eyes narrowed in thought. She had to be careful of what she did and said if what she was thinking might possibly be true. “At least move farther away from the bed,” she insisted. “I assume I can order that.” 

Nodding, the android moved back a few more feet, but that was all. She lay on her bed, satin covered pillows surrounding her, luxurious, shimmering flis cloth hanging from a jewel encrusted canopy. And she wondered why she was so upset about Tigerman’s removal as her personal bodyguard—other than the idea that Kane had scored another point in his groveling one-upmanship game. Kane was right, she had ordered the Rrilling’s destruction at one time, thought to herself to do it several other times, too. In the past, she had thought Tigerman a pest, a hulking, silent, obtrusive bother. But lately? Lately, in light of her ignominious disgrace at the hands of Buck Rogers, along with the almost downfall of her father’s empire, Tigerman had stayed loyal. Even when he had laid hands on her to save Buck, she had begun to understand and had blocked any attempts to do more than punitively punish the bodyguard. He had stayed with her, even though he could have been forfeiting his life. And there had been something in that loyalty that had broken through her anger. So Tigerman had only been banished to hard labor for a space of some months and then had returned. 

There was no question as to his devotion and to his ability to sense her moods as well. He seemed to share her dislike of Kane as well. Could that have been a reaction of his catlike instincts? Kane seemed more intense, more impatient lately. He had also seemed more—what? – sneaky? More furtive. Was he simply trying harder to get into Father’s good graces or was there something more? 

That little trip through the vortex, her time with Selena, the War Witch, had taught Ardala a valuable, if not painful, lesson. She was not all-powerful, she could not command and have all her wishes and whims granted. She couldn’t have Buck Rogers for the asking, or the commanding. She couldn’t demand his love. Some things came after working for them, including respect. She remembered her parting from Buck the previous year. She saw in his eyes that respect. He didn’t love her, but he respected her and that meant a great deal to her now. And Tigerman, for all his primitive brutishness would give his life for her. 

Ardala felt her anger kindling anew. If she knew where Tigerman was, she would ask Buck to help her find and free her slave, but the terran was off gallivanting across the galaxy looking for human colonies or some such falderal with that insipid Wilma Deering. Sitting up, Ardala felt a sense of renewed determination. She would have to find Tigerman herself. Jumping up from her bed, she clapped her hands. “I want all of my attendants. Now!” she called out. 

Within five minutes, a dozen women and one man were standing in attentive anticipation in front of her. One of the women bowed, “Your orders, Princess?” 

“I want to be made ready for a trip to the capital,” she declared. 

“When do you wish to leave, Your Highness?” 

“Now,” Ardala replied tersely. 

As if on cue the communicator chimed. The blinking red light told Ardala that it was from her father. With a smile of satisfaction, she walked over to the console and pressed the receive button. A holographic image of her father, King Dracos, formed and grew on top of the console. The image began to speak even before the figure coalesced. “Ardala, my youngest and most promising, there have been no more of those attempts on your life?” 

Ardala bowed slightly. “No, Father.” She hesitated, wondering whether to ask him about Tigerman now or later. _Later_, she thought. _Better in person_. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“Wonderful, wonderful!” He drew himself up and peered meaningfully at her. “I want your presence at the palace tonight. I have an important announcement to make.” 

“Announcement?” she repeated. Surely there was nothing wrong with her father’s health. “May I inquire as to why, Father?” 

Draco laughed. “You may, but it’s a surprise and I won’t tell you until you are here tonight. Now don’t disappoint me, Ardala. I expect you and Counselor Kane an hour before sunset.” 

Before Ardala could say a thing, her father had disappeared from the console. She frowned. What kind of surprise could he have in mind, she wondered. She sighed and mentally shrugged. No use worrying about it now. There were any number of reasons that Father would have for having a ‘surprise announcement,’ most of them quite devious. 

With the help of her attendants, she was dressed and ready within two hours, her hair coifed so that it hung in luxurious waves down her bare back. Her jeweled two-piece gown glittered enough to pull people’s attention to her body, but not quite enough to overwhelm. The beaded strings that made up her skirt rhythmically caressed her thighs as she walked toward her door. Kane was just outside when the door opened and they walked together to the small private spaceport in silence, the androids several paces behind. 

As they entered the small space yacht, Kane finally spoke. “When he called me, your father seemed very pleased about something.”

Kane looked a bit smug, but still somewhat puzzled. Ardala was not about to reveal any hints that she had no idea what her father was planning. “Father always looks smug when he makes an announcement,” she replied evenly. Somehow, though, Ardala felt she would not like the outcome of that announcement. Father had been very adamant that she marry, and he had not been pleased with her refusals of late. 

As she relaxed in the smallish but sumptuous cabin, she glanced at Kane. He still looked slightly pleased about something and Ardala began to wonder if possibly this might have something to do with her suspicions. He looked toward her, nodded and she smiled quickly and then looked toward a servant. “A drink,” she ordered. And thus the trip went, with her pointedly ignoring Kane, who occasionally tried to engage her in conversation. When they arrived at the royal palace, her father’s guards met them, a phalanx of hulking Draconians selected for their physical builds and military prowess. Tall, formidable and inscrutable, their body armor gleaming coldly, their demeanor serious. The guards fell in, ahead, behind and to each side of them, all the way to the banquet hall. The sound of their body armor seemed to fall in cadence with the soft clicking of her beaded skirt. 

“Ah, my youngest and most beautiful daughter,” Draco boomed from his place at the head table, slightly elevated from the rest. “You are safely arrived.” 

She walked up to him, past her slightly frowning sisters and their fawning husbands. It gave her a momentary thrill of pleasure when her father praised her in front of them. That he did so even after the events of the past two years made her pleasure even more enjoyable. Taking his hand, she touched it to her forehead in the formal royal greeting. “My thanks, Father,” she responded demurely. 

“Relax, Ardala. You, too, Kane.” 

Ardala sat near his right hand. Kane sat further down on the head table. 

“Enjoy yourselves,” Draco said, his dark face creased in a smile. He was obviously following his own advice, as indicated by his plate. 

A servant set a sumptuously heaped plate in front of her while another poured wine into a golden, jewel-encrusted goblet. Ardala only nibbled at the food and sipped the wine. Dancers cavorted in front of them, muscles glistening with the light sheen of perfumed oil. The jewel encrusted walls winked and flashed from the pseudo torchlights. At any other time such splendor and gaiety would have impressed and pleased her, but right now Ardala was anxious about her father’s announcement. 

Finally when many of the guests were sated with food and drink, the king clapped his hands together. The dancers and musicians prostrated themselves and then dashed out of the room. Draco stood up. “Ardala, my youngest and most beautiful,” he began. 

Ardala found the repeated use of the same honorific in the same session a bit of an ominous sign and she sat up attentively. Her sisters looked a bit sour but tried to show a noncommittal countenance. 

“Too long have you deprived me of grandchildren worthy of my heritage.” There were looks of curiosity. “And in light of the horrific attacks on your person and the devoted and dedicated service of my most noble counselor, Kane, I have decided to name Kane as your royal consort with an official wedding to be held in three months.” 

Ardala sat in stunned silence. While not totally surprised, she was nevertheless shocked. Kane was smiling broadly, several of her sisters, who knew of her antipathy toward the terran turned Draconian counselor, smirked openly. She had always been afraid that her father would force her into a marriage against her wishes, to someone she detested, but this? 

That was the main reason she had so actively tried to, first court, then force Buck Rogers to marry her. At least Buck had been attractive, had not been ambitious enough to threaten the throne and was fun to be with, in his own quirky way, but now? Her father had openly called her bluff, figuring that she would not defy him in such a setting. Anger began to override the shock; a fiery hot, righteous anger that threatened to overwhelm her. She rose to her feet and took a deep breath. Even if this meant disfavor, she would not accept this marriage. Not to Kane. She felt the heat of unshed tears, the trembling of her chin and she took another breath to control herself. Drawing herself up to her full height, she gazed directly into her father’s eyes and said, “Most illustrious and august Father. I refuse the offer of Kane as my consort and my husband.” 

Now it was Draco’s turn to look stunned. Finally—“What?!!” he cried out. “You refuse my most gracious offer? Knowing that this is the only way to inherit my throne? Kane has saved your life, protected you from assassination. He professes his love for you.” 

“Love?” she snorted. “I think it is love for the throne of Draconia. But regardless, I will not wed this boot licking, conniving burrow wog!” It was getting harder and harder to maintain control, but with a great deal of effort, Ardala reined in her emotions. “I thank you for your concern for my welfare and safety, but if it is a choice between marrying Kane to ascend to the throne and not to ascend to the throne, I will give up the throne.” And with that Ardala turned and stormed out of the room, followed by the dutiful androids.


	12. Chapter 12

An hour later, Ardala was standing in her father’s private chambers, watching her royal sire pace, listening to his ranting and raving. A few years earlier, she would have been horrified at his anger at her, and quick to do anything to mollify his displeasure. But now? Now she only had to think of life with Kane and her anger burned away any fear. 

He paused in his shouting to catch his breath. 

“Father, I would rather marry a Trisorian mud fish than marry Kane.” 

Her calm voice broke through his rage and he stopped pacing, glaring at her. “If you keep this up, you may get your wish.” He continued to glare at her. “Are you still mooning over that accursed Buck Rogers?” he growled. “I had almost wish you had succeeded in marrying him. That way I could keep an eye on him.” 

“No, Father, I am not mooning over Captain Rogers,” Ardala replied, heartened that at least King Draco was allowing her to speak. “But he allowed me to see just what flaws existed in Kane, other than the ones I already knew.” She paused. “Father, despite what your ‘esteemed’ counselor has said, Kane does not love me. He only sees me as a stepping stone to your throne.” 

“Why should he be any different from any of my other sons-in-law?” Draco cried out, his eyes snapping in anger. “And the man uncovered the plot to kill you.”

“I think that there is more to that plot than it appears on the surface, Father. It did not have the feel of a serious assassination,” Ardala said. 

“What? Are you saying that Kane was trying to kill you?”

“No, that would destroy any chances of his ascending to the throne. I think he was trying to impress you.” 

“That is ridiculous, Ardala,” Draco snapped. 

“Just check into it, Father. I’m going to.” Ardala decided to just let the seed germinate and not pursue her suspicions any further. “Where did you send Tigerman?”

“Tigerman?” 

“Yes, Kane told me you were the one who actually removed him from the palace,” Ardala said. 

“I don’t keep up with the buying and selling of slaves,” he snapped. “And why are you so interested in a slave?”

“He was loyal and you and Kane had no right to get rid of him. He was mine to keep or to dispose of,” she replied heatedly. Ardala knew she was sounding like a petulant child now, but she couldn’t help it. All of this had taxed her royal demeanor to the limit. 

“Ask Kerok. He deals with slave purchases and sales.” 

“I most certainly will,” responded Ardala. 

“Then you will prepare to wed Kane.”

Ardala seethed. With a cry of frustration she replied with another phrase that she had heard Buck use, “When Hell freezes over.” And she dashed out of the room. 

Ardala quickly reached the spaceport where her personal yacht sat ready for her and she boarded, her two ever present androids right behind her. Wasting no time, she strode into the bridge. “I want this ship in space immediately. We are going to Yresis IV.” 

“Are we going to wait for Counselor Kane?” the captain, a middle-aged, dark eyed man asked. 

“No! We launch immediately,” Ardala ordered. 

The yacht was soon streaking for the nearest stargate. 

Kane rushed into King Draco’s throne room. “Your Highness! Your daughter has just launched her yacht.” 

Draco smiled enigmatically. “Yes, I know.” 

============================ 

Wilma, her hair pulled back and loosely tied with a blue ribbon, walked perkily down an antiseptically white corridor, a food tray in her hands. When they had first learned of the distress signal and had been called to the Neckar system, and had done the initial survey of the planet, including its history, Buck had commented on how much like pre-holocaustic Earth Neckar was. “Like a cross between antebellum and fifties cultures,” was his comment. In her visits with Habris, she had noted the signs of emerging modern technologies; undoubtedly technologies that would boom with the admission of Neckar into the Galactic Council. She was thankful at this time, though, that the society wasn’t any more advanced than it was. 

Wilma tapped lightly on the door of Brisella Brock’s room and then cautiously entered. She had been told that Mrs. “Drake” was extremely taciturn at best and downright belligerent at worst. “Here is your dinner, ma’am,” Wilma said politely. 

The old woman glared at her, saying nothing. Then she beckoned for Wilma to approach. “At least you didn’t try to tell me I was someone else,” she said softly, almost conspiratorially. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Wilma said. “Mrs. Brock,” she added quietly, when she was up close to the older woman. 

Brisella gazed at her in shocked silence for a moment and then smiled broadly. “I think I’m going to like you.” She peered at the tray in Wilma’s hands. “What do you have there?” 

“Something for you to eat. I was told you weren’t eating what they fixed here, so I brought you something I got on the way to work.” Wilma had managed to study the old woman’s records the day before and saw where Mrs. Brock had accused them of poisoning her. To be perfectly truthful, the Neckarese woman had been very sick just after she had arrived at this facility, so it was not a great stretch of the imagination for Brisella to assume that someone was out to get her. And in a sense someone was. It wasn’t hard for Wilma to imagine that Brisella’s enemies might be more interested in her death than in any benefit of her living. But then why didn’t they just kill her in the first place? Wilma mentally shoved all those thoughts away. They didn’t help her in this present situation. She had to keep focused on getting Mrs. Brock out of here.

Other members of the _Searcher_ crew had gathered information on the Ahern’s, as well as on this facility where Brisella Brock had been placed. Wilma had assessed that they would most likely have to kidnap Brisella from Neckar and not just talk to her. She was confident they had the information they needed to make this a smooth operation, one where no one would get hurt. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Well, bless you, girl,” Brisella cackled. 

Wilma unwrapped the food and then handed the tray to the old woman, who took it eagerly. Aware of her cover, she smiled and said, “I have to check on a few other people. I will be back in a little bit.” 

“Please hurry,” Brisella said plaintively. She lowered her voice. “I think someone is trying to kill me. The Ahern’s never liked me much, at least not after I married a Brock.” She paused. “I was real sick when I first got here, until I made them taste my food first.” She looked at her tray and then at Wilma. “I could feel them. I could feel their cold hate for me. But you? I know you are my friend.” 

_Feel it? How could that be? Could Brisella Brock be empathic?_ However it came about, Wilma was just happy that Brisella trusted her. She lightly touched the older woman on the arm. “I promise to be back shortly. As soon as I can.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Wilma quickly checked on the other residents on her roster, and then was suddenly anxious to get back to Brisella. Perhaps the old woman’s paranoia was rubbing off on her, but Wilma wasn’t going to question it. She would rather err on the side of caution than to regret something later. In the supply room nearest the old woman’s room, Wilma activated her subcutaneous communication device. “Anton. Be ready. I think we need to do it tonight.”

“Right, Colonel,” her contact said, his voice tinny in her ear. 

Wilma felt the tiny laser pistol in her uniform pocket and then stepped out of the little room. She caught a fleeting glimpse of someone going into Brisella’s room and she glanced quickly to see if anyone else was watching. When she saw no one else, Wilma darted down the hall and slipped through the slowly closing door. A small man in the uniform of an orderly was approaching the old woman, his hand holding a tiny device that looked suspiciously like some kind of hypodermic needle. Brisella started calling out for help but quieted suddenly when she saw Wilma. 

Just as the assailant grabbed at Brisella with his free hand, Wilma kick boxed him in the side, causing him to drop the hypodermic and cry out sharply in surprise. As he turned, Wilma’s fist connected below his chin and then her other fist buried itself in the pit of the man’s stomach. Shoving him against a wall, Wilma grabbed him around the neck and hissed, “Who are you? Who sent you?” 

He shook his head, his eyes wide in surprise. “You . . . you….” 

Then the possible scenario dawned on her. “You were going to kill Mrs. Brock and let the new person take the blame,” she accused. “Who sent you?” she repeated. 

“Don’t know. They didn’t give a name. Just know they were from the provinces,” the would-be assassin said. 

“How do you know they were from the provinces?” Wilma asked, her fingers squeezing a bit tighter around the man’s neck. 

“Accent,” he gasped. “That’s all I know. I swear.” 

Wilma released the man, stepped back a pace and then fired her laser pistol. The would-be killer slumped to the ground. Quickly, she dashed to the door and closed it. 

“I knew you were one tough lady,” Brisella said with a laugh. “And I told you someone was trying to kill me.” She looked up at Wilma, a grin still on her face. “Thanks, uh….” 

“My name’s Wilma and I’m a friend of Buck Rogers,” she said quietly, checking to see if there would be any recognition. 

There was a faint glimmer of remembrance and then the old woman gazed meaningfully at her. “What are you going to do now?” 

“Try and get you out of here,” answered Wilma. “But you have to do exactly what I say.” 

“Of course, Wilma,” Brisella said brightly. 

“First, keep your voice down.” Wilma looked around and saw a wheelchair in the corner. “Do you need that?” she asked, pointing. 

“That thing? No, not in your lifetime.” 

Wilma smiled. “Good.” She pulled the unconscious man up and then hoisted him into the chair. There was a restraining strap and Wilma fastened him in. Thankfully, he wasn’t that big of a man. When he was slumped down, his head barely came above the back of the chair. Next she pulled the blanket off the bed. “Sit on his lap,” she told Brisella. 

“What? Me? On him?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Brock. If you want out of here, you will.” 

“Not as good looking as your friend, but I guess that’s all right. I can sit on his lap later,” she said with a chuckle. 

_So she does remember Buck_! Wilma smiled, seeing a razor sharp wit for all that she seemed wizened and frail. She suspected that Brisella had more strength than anyone would figure, too. After the woman seated herself on top of the unconscious man, Wilma grabbed up the hypodermic and slipped it in her pocket. Then she wrapped the blanket around the pair and walked to the door, opening it. “Let me do all the talking.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“All right, Wilma dear,” Brisella said, giggling softly.

“Shh!” 

Brisella stifled her giggles and Wilma pushed the chair out the door after checking quickly to see if anyone was in the hallway. So far, so good, Wilma thought. 

“Where are you taking that patient,” a voice demanded. 

Head nurse, Wilma thought with a mental groan, recognizing the voice. They had met when Wilma had first been ‘hired on’ and the terran woman had not been impressed. “Doctor said this one was to have a test done.” 

The nurse looked at her watch. “At ten in the evening?” She looked incredulous. 

“Yes, he said he suspected something and he’d run the tests himself,” Wilma ad-libbed, hoping that such a procedure was at least heard of. 

“That’s something new,” the nurse said. “Which patient?” 

“Drake.” 

The head nurse snorted. “He should discover a way to make this one behave.” 

Brisella began moaning, softly at first and then louder and louder. She moved her head from side to side, then began to curse. 

“All right. Take her,” the nurse said testily. “But what I really think she needs is a good strong sedative. Crazy doctors,” she muttered, turning away. 

“Yes, Nurse Collins,” Wilma said demurely as she began pushing the chair down the hallway as quickly as she could. 

“Nasty witch,” Brisella muttered. 

Wilma couldn’t help it; she chuckled, joined quickly by the woman in the chair. “That was good, Mrs. Brock. Thanks." 

“You’re welcome, dear.”

They hurried down the corridor that led past rooms with dark windows and they were not bothered until they were near the back entrance of the facility. There a security guard stepped out into the hall and challenged them. Wilma smiled sweetly. “Oh, Mrs. Drake wanted me to take her around the hospital. She was making a big ruckus so Nurse Collins said I could walk her around the grounds.” 

“What are we stopping for?” Brisella demanded, her voice loud and strident. “I want to go.” 

“Well, you aren’t taking her out. It’s dark. Take her back to her room and give her something if she’s too noisy.” 

“I want to go that way,” Brisella yelled loudly, pointing. 

Wilma surreptitiously pulled the small, laser pistol out while the guard’s attention was on Brisella and then she fired. The man slumped heavily to the ground and lay still. 

The older woman started to get up. “Let me get the door or were you going to leave this sorry excuse for a man behind?” 

“Thank you and no. I want to bring him along. He might be able to answer some questions.” As Wilma pushed the wheelchair out the open door, she gazed around, looking for more guards. She didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. “Stay close and don’t hesitate to get back in the chair if you need to.” 

“It will take a lot of walking to make me want to sit on that bony lap again,” Brisella replied sarcastically. 

Wilma smiled and pushed the chair out the door. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To meet some of my friends. They will help me get you some place safe.” 

“Not another home, I presume,” Brisella said. 

“No, definitely not another home,” Wilma said. “Let’s walk quietly so I can hear for more security guards.” Wilma felt Brisella’s hand on hers and they continued on in silence. 

“Stop!” a loud voice called and Wilma felt as though her heart had stopped beating altogether. Looking around, Wilma saw no cover for them. 

=========

Buck shivered under his blanket and then came fully awake when something crawled across his legs. He jerked up and with gloved hands, grabbed at the creature that was now skittering up the rock wall. His gloves protected him not only from the cold, but from the pain of the arthropod’s stinger.

With a speed he wouldn’t have believed possible only a scant week or two earlier, Buck grabbed the rock lobster by the tail, swung it in an arc and smashed it head first against the wall. It twitched as Buck released it, the dangerous stinger just beginning to penetrate his glove. His hand was still sore from his near disastrous attempt several nights before when he had not been quick enough and the stinger had not only penetrated the material of his glove, but his flesh as well. He had lost the meal and been slapped silly for breaking curfew. 

Buck reached down and grabbed the still slightly quivering creature and finished the job of dispatching it. He felt his stomach softly rumbling in anticipation of the midnight snack. At first he had been squeamish about eating the uncooked flesh, for all that he had indulged in oysters on the half-shell and sushi in his distant past, but the last weeks of the swill they fed them here, along with the hard labor in the mines had taken care of any fastidiousness that might have remained. This was protein, pure and simple. It was life.

In the semi-darkness that was almost a constant in these caves, Buck pulled apart the back shell, exposing the fatty flesh of the tail. His stomach growled more loudly now and he looked around to see if a guard had heard him. But there was no sound other than that of other men sleeping. With meticulous care, he drew out the meat and then in four bites had it eaten. Like Cajun crawdads, he mused, pleased with his catch, but wishing there had been about four more of the creatures. The shell was tossed out of his cell, thrown as far as he could down the rock wall corridor. Everyone would look innocent in the morning when the head honchos wanted to know who had littered the cave, Buck thought, smiling at the scene. 

With a sigh, he pulled the blanket over his body and tried to get back to sleep. But as much as he needed and wanted to sleep, it simply wouldn’t come. Buck wondered where Hawk was, how he was doing. The last time he had seen the Tane-rapanui was that brief moment after that time he had been so sick. 

Suddenly he saw Wilma in his mind and he wished she were next to him in reality. So warm and comforting. What he wouldn’t give for some warmth right now. Then Buck jerked up in shock. _No! Damn you, no you don’t! I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy much less the woman I care so much for_! As his despair and guilt threatened to totally engulf him, Buck put his head in his hands-- gloved hands that were scarred and calloused in even the short time that he’d been here. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

_How long_? he thought. Weeks, months, eternity? _Too long_. He gazed at the markings on the wall, they had stopped some time ago and there were thirty marks, maybe more. He had given up counting; it was too energy consuming, and no one cared anyway. This was the farthest Hellhole from the farthest star from the farthest galaxy that could be imagined. This was what he had awakened to after five hundred years, eternity in a hell worse than anything Dante could imagine. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

The ‘Human Rights’ movement picked the best place imaginable to slam-dunk their enemies. For that matter it was the repository for all those who had made powerful enemies. And Buck Rogers had given up; calmly, quietly given up and let his enemies win. Erik Kormand had won, Flagg had won, the whole nasty universe had won. 

Then anger flared, white hot and Buck let it, feeling the adrenalin give him strength and power. Power was something woefully lacking in his life recently. Power, resolve, direction, freedom, love, caring. _How dare they use me like this! How dare they! Give up_? “Like bloody damn hell I will!” he shouted, not caring that he was breaking curfew. He could see Kormand in his warm, comfortable cell on Cronis laughing at his predicament. He could see it and it made the flames of his anger surge even hotter, tempering a new resolve. Like a fire it purged the despair, and the anger and resolve became a nova that overwhelmed and eliminated the guilt, hopelessness and lethargy. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Then as the noise of an irritated guard came to his ears, Buck scrunched down under his covers and tried to act like the beaten, broken man that he had almost become. One who now only cared about eating, sleeping and staying warm. Like hell I’m giving up, he repeated in his mind, as the guards began their examination of the prisoners.


	13. Chapter 13

Forerunners of Bosk

Chapter Thirteen 

It was dark enough that Wilma hoped the guard had not yet seen Mrs. Brock. “Get down and stay still,” Wilma hissed. Brisella followed her directions without saying anything and Wilma studied the approaching guard carefully. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another one nearby. Wilma couldn’t let too many of these security people get close to them. There were usually three or four on duty outside, according to her sources. Right now, two were as many as she wanted to deal with. “Be ready to make a run for it,” she said quietly. 

With a single motion, she fired on the more distant guard, then the one that had come closer to them. The farther one dropped like a stone, the closer one jerked to the side to miss most of her blast. With a slight stumble, he still came at her and Wilma met him with a karate chop to the side of his head, followed by a kick to the side. He, too, dropped heavily to the ground. “Run!” Wilma said, hearing alarms going off. Reluctantly, she left the wheel chair and the would-be assassin behind and took Brisella’s hand. They sprinted toward the gate and the road beyond. Wilma was amazed at the old woman’s agility and stamina. A dark vehicle sat under a tree and she pointed toward it, activating her communicator at the same time. “Devlin?”

“I hear you, Colonel. Waiting at the rendezvous point. Hurry!” he answered. 

She and Brisella reached the vehicle, and Wilma jerked the door open as the other guards began closing in. She pushed Brisella in and jumped in after her, slamming the door behind her. 

A young face grinned back at her and Wilma grinned back. “We are trusting our lives to your driving abilities, Anton?” she asked.  
The young man in front laughed. “Just hang on and enjoy the ride.”

“That sounds like something Buck would say,” Wilma said and then felt the familiar pang of sadness. Where are you Buck Rogers? The vehicle started with a roar and careened out onto the main road. 

Brisella touched Wilma on the arm. “Captain Buck Rogers?” she asked.

Wilma nodded. 

“He and his friend helped me when those accursed relatives of mine burned up mine and Edward’s house,” she said. “Someone was out to get them, weren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“I felt it when the feathered man, Hawk, went into your ship. But not enough to warn them,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Again, that wondering about Brisella Brock. “Felt it?” Wilma asked. 

“Felt danger,” Brisella answered. 

“They were kidnapped,” Wilma replied. “We are hoping you can help us.”

“I’ll do my best, but I didn’t see much. Only felt.”

Wilma nodded. “Well, at least we are getting you away from those people trying to kill you.” 

The vehicle kept its fast pace along the dark road, only occasionally meeting other vehicles. The road climbed steadily upward, sometimes winding. Finally, they reached a spot where Anton pulled over onto a graveled area. Devlin stepped away from the shadows to meet them. “I’ll meet you at the shuttle,” Anton said 

Wilma and Brisella got out, crossing a concrete surfaced road and following Devlin up a rocky path that meandered even higher up the hills. “Let me know if you get too tired, Mrs. Brock,” Wilma said, concerned about the older woman behind her. She certainly didn’t want to get Brisella out of one life-threatening situation and immediately put her in another. 

“Don’t worry about me,” the old woman said with a grim smile. 

They continued along the path, Devlin in the front, his flashlight picking out rocks and roots, and then warning those behind him. Brisella stayed almost on his heels, with Wilma bringing up the rear. They reached the crest of the hill and then started down again. The path was a bit wider and less rocky and they made a bit better time, although Devlin tried not to go too fast for Brisella’s sake. They finally reached a level place and almost at the same time, Wilma saw a camouflaged shuttle. Touching the ident pad, Devlin keyed in his personal code and Wilma was gratified when the door slid open immediately. 

“About time you made it back,” Twiki greeted them. 

Brisella stopped short and gaped at the quad. “What is he?” 

“He’s a quad,” Wilma replied. “A very sophisticated robot.” 

Brisella reached over and gingerly touched Twiki, then tapped him lightly on the top of his metallic head. 

With a beep and a chuckle, Twiki said, “Come on in and let’s get better acquainted.” 

There was no hesitation. Brisella stepped up on the short ramp and walked into the shuttle. She looked around, awe struck as Wilma and Devlin followed her. Within minutes, Anton dashed in and then pushed the button to shut the door. 

“Mrs. Brock, if you will find a seat, we will take off in just a moment,” Wilma said, walking toward the cockpit. 

“Take off?” the old woman asked. “Where are we going?” 

“To our ship,” replied Wilma. “You’ll be safe there and when we know for sure that it’s safe on Neckar, we’ll take you back home.”

“Home? The Ahern’s burned my home. They raped the land and then burned mine and Edward’s home,” she said bitterly. 

Wilma only nodded and sat down in the pilot’s chair. Anton joined her. Soon they were lifting off, lights off to avoid undue attention. 

“Did you get rid of the vehicle?” she asked her young co-pilot. 

“Yes, indeed. I just put it in neutral gear and then jumped out. It took a spectacular nosedive into the lake. Those primitive machines are easy to operate,” he explained with a grin. 

“Good. Hopefully that will confuse them a little.” What Wilma really hoped for was a miracle—in the form of Mrs. Brisella Brock. 

================================== 

The night after what Buck termed his ‘second awakening,’ he had trouble sleeping. He was more than tired, he was exhausted, but he simply couldn’t get to sleep. Buck hadn’t been able to ponder much during the day. Of course, he thought wryly, you really couldn’t get distracted when working with cellenite. But now? Now he had to think and plan. It was obvious that his and Hawk’s kidnappers had covered their tracks well and only luck would bring the _Searcher_ here to this misbegotten planet. __

_ __ _

__

So what were the options, he wondered? As he lay scratching his stubbled chin, he could think of none, but he couldn’t give up. He watched a rock lobster slowly climbing down the wall of his cell, its slightly luminescent body showing its progress clearly. His stomach growled, but Buck ignored it, more intrigued with watching than with catching. Usually he was asleep when the creatures came calling for what little scraps might remain from dinner each night. He had never actually watched one come down the wall. As he gazed in fascination, though, Buck noticed a faint glow from above, as though there was at least one other rock lobster just out of sight. 

Apparently the wall of his cell didn’t go all the way to the cave ceiling. There was a gap, or a shelf up there somewhere. That was something that Buck had not noticed during the day when the dimness was abated a bit more by the addition of a couple more small lights in the corridors. He had noticed unexplained shadows, shadows that didn’t make sense optically speaking, but hadn’t really had time to think about it. At least a small shelf would explain what he was seeing. Slowly Buck sat up, still watching the now wary crustacean, which had turned and was heading back up the wall. Its glow continued about fifteen feet and then the lobster disappeared. A shelf! That was the only explanation. And with this bit of information, Buck felt a glimmering of hope. 

He stood on his bed and felt the walls. He had done only a bit of rock climbing in his college days, once or twice while at the academy, but had found it a bit nerve-wracking, depending only on his fingers and toes to keep from falling against the rocks below. This was well worth the effort, though, there being so much more at stake than just a possibly pain-filled end to a fun-filled afternoon. The boots would be a hindrance, so Buck took those off and shoved them into the darker shadows. When he found a couple of good finger holds and began climbing, he realized that the gloves and socks would be a problem, too. He had to have all the grip he could get and gloves and socks both had a tendency to slide. He pulled them off and shoved them in his shirt. He would put them back on when he got to the top. _When I get to the top_? he questioned his usage of semantics. _But of course I have to get to the top. There is no question on that point. I have to. This is the only bit of luck that has shown itself in all the time I’ve been here in hell_, he mused. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Listening for guards and hearing none, Buck took a deep breath and then reached up for the first finger holds. Slowly, and with careful deliberation, he began his ascent. While it wasn’t that far to the point at which the crustacean had disappeared, good handholds were at a premium. Each handhold was sought cautiously, each toehold the same way. The ascent was slow and his toes felt the bite of the cold, rough stone. He had no idea how long it actually took, but by the time Buck pulled himself onto the stone “shelf,” sweat had drenched his clothes and he lay shivering as he caught his breath. After a few minutes, he slowly sat up, not sure how spacious this shelf was and not wanting to knock himself silly. The rock lobsters had scattered at his approach, he noticed gratefully. 

Though very dim, the illumination from the few scattered lights in the corridor let him see a narrow shelf, sloping down a bit from the outer lip. It was not quite six feet to the ceiling where he was standing, so he would have to stoop to walk along it, but that didn’t matter at all. It reminded Buck of a cave he had visited a long time ago on the Tennessee/Georgia border, which had had a natural shelf along parts of the tourist-used trail. Ruby Falls, it was called. He seemed to remember that they had said the discoverer had to crawl along some parts of it. Buck almost laughed out loud. It didn’t matter if he had to crawl all the way to the surface, as long as this discovery led to freedom. 

Excited, Buck, nevertheless carefully walked along the shelf, watching for rock lobsters, not wanting to step on one of them, and have to explain why one had stung him when he normally wore his boots at night. However, the creatures seemed to have a sense of his presence and stayed out of the way. At times the shelf grew narrow enough to make his walking precarious and the ceiling sometimes lowered enough that he had to crawl on his hands and knees. But always it seemed to parallel rows of cells, some empty, the rest filled with exhausted, oblivious prisoners. It was as he had suspected all along about this prison; it had been built into already existing natural caves. When the shelf finally disappeared, Buck was almost close enough to cross a corridor. Only six feet, but it might as well have been sixty. There were monitoring cameras here and there and Buck didn’t know if prisoners were observed at night or not. He certainly didn’t want his escape-artist career cut short before it began. He would have to try the other direction, but on another night. Not knowing how long he had been away from his cell, Buck couldn’t risk being gone too long. 

Returning was quicker, now that he knew the route and Buck was soon back at his cell. 

He was as careful climbing down as he had been going up, but it was more difficult as this time. He couldn’t see where to put his toes and they were almost numb with cold. He made it down safely and quickly slipped his boots back on. Then Buck pulled the blanket over his body and fell asleep. Too soon a guard awakened him, but Buck was too excited about finding Hawk and blowing this hole. 

The next evening, Buck waited impatiently for his fellow inmates to quiet down, then he climbed back up, wishing he had a rope or something to help. Perhaps he would find something in his travels. His fingers ached, sore from the unaccustomed strain he had put on them the night before, but still he made it up to the shelf with little trouble. 

His overhead path in the other direction was shorter this time, but it ended in the widened cavern that housed the sickbay, supply area and storage areas. Better yet, Buck had noted a heavy locked door at the entrance to the cavern below him not ten feet back. He almost cried out in his elation. There were no guards inside; apparently Beros had never considered infiltration from above. Finally there was some scrap of good luck. 

The shelf had ascended a little so he was about twenty feet above the cavern floor. The actual path ended right above a supply room and Buck examined the wall as carefully as he could in the dim light. There was a security vid, presumably to keep the inmate workers honest, but where he was climbing down appeared to be out of the view of the camera. He hoped. If the cavalry converged, Buck would know soon enough. And if that happened, he trusted he’d have enough time to climb back up and hide before anyone came in this particular room. However, Buck was really banking that this was a daytime camera, there to monitor activities during working hours. Hooks had been set into the wall, and Buck used those to his advantage as he carefully climbed down. His hands and arms felt trembly by the time he had reached the cavern floor, but he waited quietly, listening for any indication that he had been caught. There was nothing except the slight sound of air softly blowing through the caves. 

When it remained silent, Buck relaxed and in his wonder at everything around him, he totally forgot his discomfort. Hanging from the hooks were ropes of various gauges, on shelves were flashlights, packs, hammers of differing sizes. Buck selected a rope that was hanging with several others and then reached for a flashlight. He paused. Better to take just one thing at a time, see how well the inventory clerk did his job. Quietly, Buck went through some drawers and found one with this place’s equivalent of Swiss Army knives. He would take a chance on one of these. He picked up one from the back of the drawer that appeared older, but was still utilitarian enough. 

Buck continued to explore. Most of the partitioned rooms were unlocked, but several were secured, like the room that he received his cellenite and jackhammers from, as well as the sickbay and his rock walkway ended before it got to those rooms. Understandable, considering the expense or the danger of what was inside. Someone in the beginning must have been aware of the walkways.  


Looking in each unlocked area, Buck couldn’t help but wonder how long this operation had been going on. Long enough to get a bit arrogant about security, he thought. He mentally cataloged what he saw with what he would eventually need for an escape attempt. If he took one or two items a night, he could store up quite a little pile in a fairly short time. 

Then Buck came to some administrative offices. When he saw a map on the wall, showing what appeared to be the caves, he paused, feeling he had hit the jackpot. More than just maps of the mining operation, Buck saw what appeared to be print-outs of manifests in various piles on a desk. He smiled. Most were in terra lingua. What he read in one pile were sales receipts of crillite to various markets, such as Draconia, Sinaloa and places whose names he didn’t recognize. Another pile was for items bought for the running of the mines. Buck would have to take a full night or two in order to go through all this. In the meantime, he wanted to get an idea where the exits were and more importantly, where Hawk’s cell was located. 

Gazing at the map, Buck found where he was, where his cellblock was and then he tried to orientate himself to the exits. He saw the location of the rec center, Beros’ office, and the elevators to the surface. A sister map showed the upper level and transport area. What surprised Buck was the fact that there was no nearby spaceport. The surface was densely wooded, with only one road leading to a spaceport approximately sixteen klicks away. They used ground transport to get there. Why? _Maybe because a next door spaceport would make it too easy for someone like myself to steal a ship. Who knows_? Then a thought occurred to him. Most likely the transports had anti-theft devices on them, making them almost impossible to steal. Of course one can do that with space ships, too. Buck pushed that out of his mind. Needless to say, that was a bridge he and Hawk would have to cross when the time came.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

If need be, a fourteen mile hike wasn’t all that bad, especially if the surface was temperate. The doctor had mentioned that the parasites attacked humans, but Hawk wasn’t human. His friend could make it to the spaceport and steal a ship. Maybe by the time they actually made their escape, he could, too. Regardless, this seemed the best option of escape. 

Buck studied the map for a few more minutes and then turned away to what appeared to be files. He needed find more detailed logs of the cellblocks, list of prisoners, but that would have to be another night, too. He had to get at least a few hours sleep or he’d do something stupid with the cellenite and blow himself up. Probably tomorrow night he’d lay low to see if anything was missed. 

Throwing the rope over his shoulder and sticking the knife in his waistband, Buck slipped out of the room and back to the point where he had climbed down. His fingers protested, but there were easier hand holds on this wall and he made good time back to his cell. Soon he had settled himself on his stone bed, his contraband hidden above him and his hopes higher than they had been since arriving on Bosk. He fell asleep, mentally listing again all the things he would need.


	14. Chapter 14

Forerunners of Bosk

  
Chapter Fourteen 

Hawk watched as several of the prisoners were escorted to different areas, following their probationary time, and new prisoners were brought in. One, a hulking, muscle-bound humanoid growled at his captors, his golden-flecked eyes pools of righteous indignation. His bare head was marked with stripes, and that and the way he moved indicated a felinoid background. 

“Fight and you die, beast,” one of the two guards escorting him said. The human had a larger stun stick than the guards normally carried. “Why they accept these uncontrollable animals, I’ll never know,” he muttered. 

His companion laughed mirthlessly. “Comply and it will go easier for you,” he said to the prisoner. The felinoid prisoner growled again and was stunned on the leg. The prisoner flinched but made no other sound. They passed directly in front of Hawk’s cell and that was when he realized that the new prisoner had shackles on. As the felinoid passed by his cell, the two prisoners locked eyes briefly. Hawk tried to convey something to give encouragement to the new prisoner but he didn’t know if he succeeded. He felt so little of it himself. The felinoid was led past him and to a cell further down the corridor, where a clanking of metal told Hawk that the new prisoner had been introduced to his home. 

A fierce rattling, a cry and then a loud roar told Hawk the new prisoner didn’t care for his home. Hawk smiled fleetingly. The two humans finally walked past him, muttering foul epitaphs that he felt would have made even Buck blush, and his friend had told him that he had heard them all. 

Hawk felt anew the sting of resentment. Despite being told that the probationary time was approximately two weeks, Hawk had counted the days and knew he had been in the prison for over two months. Even though he was a fairly solitary person, especially as far as humans were concerned, the weeks of non-interaction with anyone except for commands from guards was taxing even to him. Hawk felt the need for some kind of expression and the need for companionship. Even touches of Koori were absent in this cold and dark mine, as though her spirit could not come into this evil place. Not that he could blame her. The thought of even her spirit here in these caves seemed repugnant to him. Hawk sighed and lay back down, hoping to catch a glimpse of his beloved in his dreams as he had done a few nights before. The cold slab made him shiver and he drew the blanket around him tightly, his thoughts going again to the unfairness of his imprisonment. 

Most of the prisoners he had seen appeared to be human or near enough human to pass as fully human. But even in his antipathy toward most of the human race, Hawk felt an overwhelming sadness at what was being done to his fellow prisoners, human and non-human alike. To be punished for a crime was one thing, but to be so cruelly dealt with, treated like the lowest of organisms, was a travesty. He wondered just how many of his fellow prisoners were like him, objects of someone’s vindictiveness. Anger burned in his heart but it was quickly extinguished in the thoughts that no matter what he felt about the situation, there was nothing he could do about it at the present time. If it were not for the fact that Buck was also here, possibly still sick, Hawk would eventually force his jailers to kill him. He would never endure months and years of this dark and evil servitude. 

Hawk remembered his last meeting with Sky Mother, her soothing touch that was almost like a blessing and he remembered her words, which now made at least partial sense. ‘Star Warrior Hawk, your path to the reunification of our people will lead through the darkest bowels of hell and the coldest heights. But I see it happening. Stay close to what you have but open your heart to what you see.’ 

‘Darkest bowels of hell?’ Yes, that made sense, he thought, looking around. The rest of her words, he had no idea about, but Hawk certainly hoped that it wasn’t as hard a way as this part of her promise was. Then he took a bit of consolation that this was what she saw before the other part of her ‘seeing.’ It was a small consolation, though. Trying to shut out everything but the need for sleep, Hawk pulled the blanket even closer to him. He flexed his fingers, missing the feel of his own gauntlets, his own clothing, that which was utilitarian as well as a marking of his rank. His thoughts as they had been before, continued to ask why, if Sky Mother had some idea about this, why hadn’t she more specifically warned him. Then he reminded himself that her insights were not specific. They were more colors, emotions, quick sights rather than drawn out and explicit visions of events. No one could be faulted here just as no one individual could be flamed for the series of events that led to him being the lone survivor of his clan. 

Again his thoughts turned to Koori and he suddenly felt a warmth that had been absent since he had come to this dank and cold place. It was not just an inner warmth, it was physical. He felt a presence with him on the hard slab; he felt the touch of softness on his chest, a hand—Koori. 

A thrill ran through him and Hawk almost jerked up in surprise.

‘No, my love,’ he heard Koori soft musical voice say in his mind and heart. ‘Lay still. You will not see me if you open your eyes, or feel me if you try to take me in your arms,’ her spirit whispered. ‘Feel me in spirit, my love. Let me warm your heart and your soul and that in turn will warm your physical self.’ 

And he did, reveling in her presence and her love. _Oh, Koori,_ he moaned in his mind. _Stay with me. Please stay with me_. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

‘For a while, Hawk. It is hard to come to this evil place, but I come to give you strength. I come because I love you. I will come whenever you need strength the most.’

_In this place I always need strength, Koori. Stay with me always_! __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Her laughter electrified his soul, filled his heart. ‘I will be with you during your most difficult times.’ 

_There will be times more difficult than this_? he asked, somewhat inanely he thought, even as the thought crossed his mind. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

‘Yes, Hawk. There will. You will need strength to leave your friend.’ 

_Leave? We will leave_, he thought, not totally catching all she had said. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

‘Strength, my love.’ She said no more, but Hawk felt her warmth, her love and her strength and he fell asleep feeling her touch and the memory of her embrace.

===========================

Tigerman grasped the bars of his cell, growling softly under his breath, but when one of the humans turned to him, stun gun ready, he backed away. The manacles clinked softly as he sat down on the stone slab, but the guard was content and continued on down the corridor. 

_Fools_! he thought, his anger bubbling like the lava pits of his home, Rrilling. He could have used these chains and quickly killed those two puny men before they could begin to subdue him. But he knew there would have been more and more and when there were enough, he would have been beaten into submission.  
__

_ _He thought of Kane! How he hated Kane! Tigerman knew that was the reason he was here. His princess didn’t order his imprisonment, like she had before, that time when he had let Buck Rogers go. No, this was Kane. _ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Again, Tigerman growled softly and held up his hands, examining the chains and manacles. He felt he could easily break these chains. He felt a weakness in the metal. However, he wouldn’t do that now. Somehow he had to get out of this dark den of Ssess and if he broke his chains now, they would only put on stronger ones. It was hard, but he would wait. His people knew how to wait. It was enough right now that they knew that he was a Tigerman and not some child’s velirian fluff pet. 

He remembered the watcher in the other cell. He appeared to have something of the bird people in him. Maybe he was not full-blooded as were the Watchers in the heights that he once saw when he was a child, but of the same parentage. 

Tigerman considered his mistress and his choosing to be her protector. He remembered the honor of winning the trials on his home world, then chosen and taken to Draconia to train to be the Princess Ardala’s personal bodyguard, to give his life for her if need be. He knew he had disappointed her a few times, he had sensed her intense displeasure, even her anger. He also knew he was less than the dust under the toes of Draconian royalty, but of late he had felt something different from his mistress. She had brought him back from the gaming pits where he had been sent after he had failed to stop Buck Rogers from destroying the orbital war machine. She didn’t have to bring him back. For laying hands on a royal daughter, he had deserved death. For failing in his duties he had also deserved death. Kane had said so. Kane! Tigerman growled softly again. He wished he had Kane here, then they would see how powerful he was. 

Tigerman considered Captain Rogers’ offer, seemingly so long ago. He could have gone with the Earthman, been free. Why had he refused? He knew the penalties for what he had done. So why had he stayed? Despite what he had suffered at Captain Rogers’ hands, Tigerman knew he would be fairly treated. Other than that, though, he didn’t know what else to expect, and in that he was afraid. And the thought of abandoning his Princess into the hands of others was the biggest reason for his fear. Whether she had put him to death as was her right or not, he could not leave her. Especially in the hands of Kane. So he had stayed. And his Princess had not put him to death. She had eventually brought him back into her service. It had been in time to save her from several assassins. 

Tigerman thought again of Buck Rogers. He had been part of the cause of his downfall. While the terran had beaten him several times in combat, sometimes by not so honorable means, Tigerman did not scent evil in him. But deep inside, the former royal bodyguard wanted a chance to fight and beat the terran, fairly and without tricks. Someday. 

Tigerman lay down on the stone slab, annoyed that his feet stuck out over the edge. The blanket was threadbare and too small as well, but his body heat would be enough. Soon he was sound asleep, but his senses were alert as was the habit of all of his race. 

========================= 

“What’s an OEI?” Brisella asked, gazing up in open admiration at Dr. Goodfellow. Wilma noticed and had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. She hoped the doctor would be up to dealing with the outspoken and independent Neckarese woman. Brisella Brock was filled with more surprises than one of Buck’s birthday parties. She sobered. Remembering that first party brought Wilma back to what was most important. Finding Buck and Hawk. 

Dr. Goodfellow blushed slightly, considerably flustered by her open admiration. “Well, dear lady, I could bore you with the specifics, but, uh…. Oh, dear!” The old scientist coughed and cleared his throat. Brisella continued to gaze at him and he coughed again, trying to keep his mind on what he needed to do. “Basically, madam, it helps to focus memories and displays them for us to see.” 

“Oh, any memories?” she asked dubiously, all the while still gazing at the old doctor. 

“Any that we ask for,” Goodfellow answered.

Brisella smiled mischievously and this time Wilma smiled along with her. “You wouldn’t want to see some of my memories,” Brisella replied tartly, folding her arms over her chest. “There are some things a lady doesn’t reveal.” 

Wilma decided it was time to jump in and save the scientist. Twiki and Dr. Theopolis were standing nearby awaiting the OEI test. “Mrs. Brock, the OEI pretty much only focuses on the specific memory asked about,” she said. 

“So if you don’t ask me about my Edward, I won’t show you anything about my dearly departed husband.” 

“Correct, Mrs. Brock,” Dr. Goodfellow said hastily. 

“Oh, please call me Brisella,” she said with a smile, looking directly into Dr. Goodfellow’s eyes. 

“Uh, of course, Mrs., er, Brisella.” 

“Then I suppose that it would be all right,” Brisella said. 

“Thank you,” Wilma said. “We are hoping that some visual detail of what you have told us might be the clue that we need to find Buck and Hawk.”

“I didn’t see much, but I do want to help you. That beau of yours was nice and so was his friend.” 

Dr. Goodfellow carefully and gently fitted the OEI on the older woman’s head. “It won’t hurt a bit, but let me know if it’s too tight.” 

“I will,” Brisella assured him.


	15. Chapter 15

Forerunners of Bosk

Chapter Fifteen 

Buck watched a solitary guard walking the corridor; he studied the placement of the security vid cameras. Even though he suspected that monitoring was lax Buck knew that the presence of a prisoner out of his cell during the sleep cycle would be noticed very quickly. The only way he could get to Hawk would be to fit in with his surroundings, and the only way to do that would be to look like a guard. Buck knew where the clothing supply area was. He would get a uniform tonight and then find Hawk the night after being allowed shaving and bathing privileges. He mentally laughed—Bosk’s equivalent of the Saturday night bath. He had finally been allowed that privilege after he had complained bitterly to the doctor that his fellow prisoners were allowed simple amenities. The beard alone had been driving him nuts. 

Bringing his mind back to the present, Buck thought of all the stash he had thus far collected in his numerous nights of scavenging and information gathering. He had new boots, a flashlight, a stun gun, more rope, and he had made a copy of the map of the mines and surface region where the mine was located. As he slipped silently along his ‘high road,’ Buck felt a confidence he hadn’t had since first coming to this place. This was going to work! They would escape! They only lacked food and that was locked up in a vault-like cooler. Probably from hungry rock lobsters, certainly not from prisoners. But the information he had gleaned indicated that the surface had plenty of natural growth suitable for human consumption. 

Reaching the area he needed, Buck dropped down into the administrative compound, still amazed that this area was not monitored. But he would not begrudge his blessings. Quickly, Buck found the area where the uniforms were kept and began his search for one that would fit him. As soon as he had, Buck put on the accompanying helmet, tied the clothing into a bundle and slung it over his shoulder. He ran back to his cell, left the bundle stored above and was soon back on his stone bed, lying down. He quickly fell asleep. 

========================== 

Wilma found herself preparing for another mission, this one of a more diplomatic nature than the so-called ‘abduction’ of Brisella Brock. While Wilma still chafed at the time it was taking on this investigation, there was nothing they could do about it. Neckar was their only viable link to Buck and Hawk’s whereabouts and they had to have some good will from the government to obtain their goals. With the information gleaned from Brisella, the admiral had made a formal complaint against the Ahern family. The government had acted, but Wilma felt that it was only a token action, something to try and placate the admiral without gaining undo ire from the Ahern family. This family, it seemed, was very powerful and supported many political leaders. 

The admiral and Wilma decided it was time to pay a visit to one of the Ahern leaders. Wilma needed to know more about the family and prepared to call on Habris again. This time she did so under the cover of darkness, suspecting that he would be in grave danger if she visited publicly. They had already given him a communication device to be used if he was threatened. And indeed, Wilma worried that Habris may already have experienced some kind of threat because of his involvement with her. 

This time Wilma took a fighter. It was smaller and easier to hide. Landing at the very edge of a small wooded park in the middle of town, Wilma deployed the camouflage netting and then walked toward the now familiar center of town. Staying in the shadows, Wilma was still able to make good time and she reached the newspaper office quickly. The lights were off except for a very dim one in Habris’ office. He was working late, just as he said he usually did. 

His back door was unlocked and Wilma wondered if Leon Habris was empathic as was Brisella or if he was just a very trusting soul. Without saying anything, Wilma slipped through the printing room and toward the newspaperman’s office. She heard nothing when she listened at his door, but still she pulled out her laser. Something didn’t seem quite right. Slipping in the room, Wilma saw, to her horror, Habris lying face down on the floor. She quickly checked the other door and the outer room in the front of the office. Finding nothing, Wilma returned to Habris and examined him. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found a fairly strong pulse. Checking him over, Wilma saw signs that he had been beaten. With a moan, Habris began waking up, starting when he saw her leaning over him. 

“Who did this?” Wilma asked. 

“Some hooded thug. Can guess who, but can’t say anything for sure,” he said, rubbing a large lump on one side of his head. “See that little door over there?” he asked. 

Wilma nodded. 

“Get a bottle and bring it to me, please.” 

She did and he pulled the top off and drank avidly. “This has gone far enough,” Wilma said hotly. “We filed a report with your government, but they don’t seem to be greatly interested in expediting this. And in the meantime, people like you are getting hurt.” Even a day seemed forever. Government bureaucracy, she had been told when she had complained. Wilma sighed, the only outlet to her frustration that she had right now. “Are you all right?” she asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” he answered. Then he smiled. “They warned me to stay away from you and your companions. They also told me to quit saying things against the Ahern’s.” 

“Which Ahern would be most likely to have the information we need about Buck and Hawk’s kidnapping?” 

“Cordell is the Ahern family’s strongman. He seems to be the one in charge of security for the family,” Habris told her. 

“Do you have a picture of him?” Wilma asked. 

“Sure do,” Habris replied, slowly getting up. He walked into the archive room, where he pulled out a film cartridge and stuck it into the film reader. A tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man stared out at her. He was standing next to an older man, one with a great deal of authority. Wilma could see that from the arrogant look of his features and the stance of his body. 

“Joses Ahern,” Habris said, as though reading her mind. “The head of the family. Brisella’s nephew.” 

“Slight resemblance.” Wilma paused her thoughts racing. “I am not comfortable with you here alone. Especially after you’ve been hurt.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Habris said, waving off her concern. 

“Do you want a ride in a starfighter?” she asked suddenly. 

Habris’ eyes widened and he grinned. “Colonel, you have asked me something I can’t say no to. Of course, I would!” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

“Where are we going? Your ship?” 

“Yes, for a short while. I have an idea and need to do some things to make it work,” Wilma said vaguely. “I am going to ask someone to come down to watch over your office. You have too much valuable information here to be lost to vindictive vandals.” 

Habris nodded. “I will agree to that if your people don’t mind.”

Wilma just nodded and then called _Searcher_. Within minutes, Habris had locked up and they were walking through the dark streets toward her starfighter. They said nothing until Wilma had pulled the canopy closed. “Do you have any idea where this Cordell Ahern might be this time of night?” she asked. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Yes, a bit of an idea,” Habris answered. “With all that is going on, he will probably be in the main mansion, even likely to be with Joses Ahern.”

Wilma smiled conspiratorially. “Even better.” Quickly doing her pre-flight, she called back over her shoulder. “Get ready for the ride of a lifetime.” 

“Oh, I am,” he answered with a grin. Habris watched the terran woman punch buttons and flip switches and then he felt the little starship rise slowly from the ground. About twenty feet up, Wilma punched some more buttons and the ship shot upward at a speed he wouldn’t have thought possible. The darkness of the night made way to a starry spectacle that amazed him and caused him to suck in his breath audibly in his wonder. Within minutes they were approaching a large vessel and Habris’ eyes almost popped from his head. “Is that your mother ship?” he asked. 

Wilma answered with a laugh. “Yes, that is the _Searcher_. My home away from home.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“It’s immense,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder and awe. 

“Has to be with a complement of two hundred people.” 

Wilma eased into the docking bay and shut down the engines. The admiral greeted her. Despite her eagerness, she made the proper introductions. All the while Habris stared at everything around him. 

“We have someone down there keeping an eye on Mr. Habris’ establishment,” the admiral said to Wilma. “I got the impression, though, that you had something else on your mind.” 

“Yes, I think we should interrogate one of the Aherns. Use the OEI if necessary,” she said. 

“The government would raise holy hell!” he protested. 

“Not if they don’t know. And I suspect the Aherns won’t tell them, either,” Wilma replied. 

Asimov sighed, gazing intently at his second in command. “Are there any specifics to this plan?” 

“Mr. Habris has told me the most likely candidate and where he might be right now.” She paused. “I want someone to run a scan of the Ahern buildings, detailed scan. I want it done quickly and while that’s being done I want my ship refueled. I intend on using the camouflaging device in case the Ahern’s have been provided with any advanced technology.” 

“You are going to do this tonight?” 

“Yes, I believe that this type of operation is best served by speed. Especially if everyone thinks that we are waiting for the continental government to do something.” Wilma gazed at the admiral, willing him to understand. 

“You have a good point there,” he said. “All right, go ahead. And Mr. Habris will be our guest while you are gone.” 

Habris started. “Oh, no, please don’t leave me behind.” 

“We have to, Mr. Habris. First of all, if they had sure knowledge of your cooperation with us, especially in this operation, you might be targeted for much worse than a beating,” Wilma told him. 

“I agree,” the admiral added. “You and Brisella Brock can visit until things are safe.” 

“Ah, so she is safe,” Habris said. 

“Yes, we brought her on board five days ago. That was why we were able to file the report with your government,” Wilma explained. 

“I’m glad. I was worried about her.” 

“As well you should have been. The reason we brought her here was because someone was trying to kill her when I made my first contact with her,” Wilma explained. 

Habris sighed and shook his head. “I am glad I asked you to help her.” He sighed again and then grinned. “Well, I guess if I must miss the action, I can think of no better person to miss it with.” 

Smiling, Wilma said, “I will leave you in the most capable hands of the admiral. I have several things I have to do while I wait for the pilot to return with the scans.” 

A little more than an hour later, Wilma was gazing intently at a very detailed scan of the Ahern mansion with Habris. “There are two people here in what appears to be an office. Would this be Joses and Cordell?” 

“Most likely,” Habris said. “There are several guards inside and out.” 

“Laser stun pistols should take care of that problem.” Then she stopped and thought. “Yes, someone outside and I will handle the inside.” Her mind was racing with quickly put together plans as she thanked Habris, folded up the plans and then met with the admiral and Captain Rodriguez, her wingman in this operation. As soon as they launched, Wilma activated her camouflaging device and let Marcos fly ahead of her. She landed not too far from the house, undetected, even while guards were rushing toward a point just inside the outer wall of the estate. A stately pond, complete with a small fountain, rippled behind her while the ivy covered walls of the Ahern mansion laid in front of her. 

Leaving the device on a short timed sequence, Wilma popped the canopy and stepped out of her starfighter, closing the canopy behind her. She was near a rear entrance and Wilma wasted no time using a small laser device to offset the lock mechanism. Quickly, she was down the hall and at the door of the office where she heard angry voices. Several men were arguing, partly, it seemed, about the attack on Habris. She wondered how long this had been going on. Quite some time, Wilma thought for them to have not only been on the scan but still here. She was grateful for whatever luck came her way.

“Cordell, you had better take care of whatever’s out there.” That had to be Joses. It sounded arrogant. There was another voice, indistinguishable, probably, hopefully Cordell. Then there was Joses again, loud and angry. “You idiot. Habris is friends with those terrans. And it’s most likely the terrans that got to Brisella Brock. I don’t for a second believe she died in that submerged car….” 

She had heard enough. Wilma reached for the old fashioned doorknob, turned it, and dashed through in a crouch, her laser flashing at everyone in the room. Joses Ahern only had a chance to hurl an epitaph at her before he fell on the colorful flowery rug. Another man dropped simultaneously. Cordell dodged, aiming a deadly looking weapon at her, but Wilma’s laser hit him before he could fire. Wilma checked the entire room before she was satisfied that she had stunned everyone. 

Quickly placing force restraints on Cordell Ahern, she dragged him to the office door. Wilma paused only long enough to make sure there was no one in the hallway and then Wilma dragged him to the outer door. There Marcos met her and helped her load the unconscious man into her starfighter. 

“Any problems?” she asked. 

“One of them was a bit agile, but I finally got him,” Marcos replied, with a grin. “Shall we leave?” 

“Yes.” She did a quick pre-flight and then lifted off, Rodriguez right behind her. 

Within minutes they were back aboard _Searcher_ and a short time later, Ahern was in Dr. Goodfellow’s lab preparing for his interrogation. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I assume that it all went well,” the admiral, who had met them in the hanger, said. 

“Piece of cake,” Wilma answered brightly, feeling hope that now they would get the clues they needed. 

The admiral looked at her in puzzlement for a moment and then smiled. “One of Buck’s phrases, I gather.” 

Wilma nodded. “Went perfectly. Now we’ll get some answers.” 

The admiral sighed. “I certainly hope so.”


	16. Chapter 16

Forerunners of Bosk

Chapter Sixteen

Prisoner twelve-sixteen seemed to have given up. There was no more of the subtle touches of defiance, of identity. Twelve-sixteen was like all of the other prisoners—existing, probably for reasons that even the prisoners were unaware of. For most it was deep-seated self-preservation instincts that superseded anything else. Ril suspected that was the only reason most of the prisoners lasted as long as they did. 

But somehow the downfall of this prisoner, only about two and a half months after his arrival, disappointed Ril more than he wanted to admit. He had seen something there that made him want to root for this prisoner. Indeed, Ril had felt renewed interest in all of the prisoners lately, and he wondered at that. Another part of him, though, realized that getting emotionally involved would be disastrous to not only his job but also his own mental health. 

Regardless, Ril felt saddened. 

Pulling on his tunic, the guard just sighed and then left his quarters. When he woke the forerunner and handed him his depilatory kit, twelve-sixteen nodded, took off his weekly growth of beard and then washed his face. He frowned as he jerked his slept-in shirt down and then he yawned. Rogers walked out of the tiny cell and toward the food service area, slowly eating his breakfast before heading toward the equipment area. 

The forerunner did his job during the day with deliberation, but no undo extra effort and without acknowledging him. At the end of the day, Ril delivered him and several others back to their cells. But before he sat down to his meager meal, twelve-sixteen turned to him and gave a quick salute. The eyes, though tired, showed a touch of humor. Ril didn’t react immediately, but then he returned the salute with a slight smile.

========================

Buck had waited a night, making sure that the uniform and extra blankets weren’t missed. He was anxious, though and it took him a while to get to sleep. The next day, he had to force himself to act normally. Normal, that is, for the beaten, depressed man he had temporarily been. He used the depilatory, having to resist the urge to double-check his job. Tonight!! Tonight was the night he would find Hawk. He had the layout in his mind as well as on a crudely drawn diagram. 

With effort, Buck forced himself to concentrate on his job. He blew five areas and was dog tired by the time he had received his medical treatment went back to his cellblock. After giving Ril something to think about, then berating himself for that little lack of self-control, Buck sat heavily on his stone slab. He gazed at his dinner with absolute disinterest. But despite its blandness, and sameness, he knew he needed to eat some of it. He had been too busy to lay in wait for rock lobsters, so he had felt the lack of food keenly at times. With a sigh, Buck looked up and saw Ril still standing there looking at him. His eyes were friendly, or at the very least, they showed sympathetic interest. _Wish he were sympathetic enough to give me the keys to the front door_, Buck thought. __

_ __ _

“It’s even worse if you let it get cold,” Ril said. 

Buck nodded and picked up his bowl and bread. Ril moved on when Buck began eating. He finished and laid the bowl and spoon by the cell door. Then he lay down to rest, playing mental games to stay awake. There was no way he wanted to miss this opportunity to find Hawk. Buck listened to the quiet tapping of the guard’s feet for a while before it became totally quiet. Soft snores from other prisoners, the slight sound of the air passing through the corridor were the only things breaking the silence and Buck knew that it was late enough to begin this next phase of his tenuous plan. 

Silently, he got up and then climbed up to the shelf above. He returned to his cell with a bundle of blankets, which he formed into the shape of a sleeping man. Buck felt the need to have something there in case of a cursory check by the guard, especially if it took longer to find Hawk than he expected. When that was taken care of, he climbed back up with the ease of much practice. Quickly slipping out of his prison garb, Buck pulled on the guard’s uniform he had confiscated. The boots he carried in a pack he brought with him. He padded along the stone pathway until he got to the end of the ledge, then he quickly climbed down and put on his boots and helmet. The empty pack was shoved into a dark crack in the wall. 

With an air of assurance he didn’t totally feel, Buck strode toward the other probationary cellblock, one that housed most of the non-human inmates. Thankfully, he had only seen one other guard on his trek, but despite his fear of discovery, Buck had stayed calm, nodding and continuing on his way. 

Reaching the cellblock, he strode up and down twice, not only to locate Hawk, but also to see what the other guard was doing. Smiling, Buck saw the man sitting at a monitoring console, his chin resting on his chest, snoring softly. 

Buck walked back down the corridor, stopping in front of Hawk’s cell. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t exactly sure how to awaken his friend without causing undo attention or noise. 

======================

Even in his sleep, Hawk felt the eyes of someone on him. He woke fully and saw a guard standing just outside his cell staring at him. The helmet was down low over the human’s forehead, further shading his eyes in the dimness of the night cycle-darkened corridors. Hawk wondered what kind of perverse punishment they were thinking up now. Then his irritation turned to amazement and joy when the guard flashed a grin at him; a smile he would have known anywhere. “Buck?” he whispered, his joy almost overcoming his commonsense.  


Buck motioned him to silence and then began signing. Some of the signs he couldn’t understand, but Hawk felt he understood the gist of what Buck was saying to him. His friend had figured a way out of his cell and was formulating an escape. _Understatement, considering that Buck is standing out in the corridor, apparently free to go anywhere he chooses_. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

‘I can’t stay long,’ Buck signed further. ‘Scouting an escape route.’ 

Hawk signed his understanding, as well as his happiness in seeing his friend again. He smiled, feeling hope growing in his heart. ‘How will you open the door to my cell?’ he signed. 

‘The guard likes to sleep on duty. Won’t be hard to put him to sleep for a little longer and then get the access cards,’ Buck signed. ‘I’m going. It won’t be long. Another day or two. I promise.’ 

‘I will be waiting,’ Hawk returned. 

Buck gave him the thumbs up signal, another reassuring grin and then sauntered down the corridor, quickly swallowed up in the dimness. 

They would be free. Finally. Then Hawk remembered Buck’s illness and wondered how it would affect them in their escape. But he dismissed it. They would be free. They could steal a spacecraft and get Buck the medical attention he needed. They would be free…. 

Buck went back to a main corridor and then headed toward the area indicated as freight elevators. He stopped when he saw workers ahead of him. They were filling transport bins with raw crillite. To his shock and horror, he saw that some of the workers had shackles on. Apparently this was the duty station for those who were real discipline problems. There were also those who appeared on their last legs; gaunt and listless, their skin sallow and their eyes sunken. These were people who had been here way too long. 

What surprised him the most, though, was the presence of someone familiar. Tigerman! _Nah, can’t be_! But it was. The longer he looked, the more he was certain that Ardala’s bodyguard was here and he wondered if Tigerman’s presence was due to the fiasco on Ardala’s cruiser so long ago; that day when the Draconian bodyguard had saved him. Or in his ineffectiveness in stopping him from destroying the orbital weapon. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

The bins were closed after they were loaded and then they were shoved into the elevator shaft where they immediately began their assent to the surface. Buck didn’t see an easy way to escape here. But nearby were the passenger and employee elevators, the ones the guard took when they were off duty, and, he supposed, the ones that new prisoners took on their one-way trip to the mines. Buck decided to take a quick look. 

Later as he climbed down into his cell, Buck felt a deep sense of satisfaction. While there was still a great deal that would be left to luck, the way out of this place seemed clear. He felt with some of that luck, they could be away from here within a week. As he quickly hid the extra blankets and lay down for a few hours sleep, there were only two niggling points that kept clamoring for his attention. 

One was Tigerman. He wouldn’t leave Tigerman down here when he and Hawk escaped. Not in good conscience anyway. Buck could only assume that Tigerman was kept in the same cellblock, as was Hawk. He’d ask tomorrow when he went to visit his friend.  


The other problem was that of his sickness and the continued need for the medication. He was going to have to make an attempt to get more of the stuff, but if he couldn’t, then at least Hawk could get to the spaceport and escape, bringing back help. And if they could commandeer a transport, then all the better. Regardless, any freedom, even brief freedom, was better than no freedom at all. He would have to do more research and figure a more concrete plan of total escape from this planet.

============================ 

Wilma pulled up the records of Hawk’s capture that Buck had filed, seemingly so long ago. “Flagg,” she muttered, knowing that Buck had mentioned that name before. And she had been sure it was from his time on Throm. 

When Cordell Ahern had finally, after two days of badgering, cajoling and even a bit of lying, submitted to their questioning and then to limited OEI interrogation, he had given them that name as the spaceman in charge of Buck and Hawk’s capture. Flagg…. 

Wilma even had his picture to go with it. She gazed at the report on the computer screen. Buck’s queries on Throm about Hawk had netted him some visitors. And the leader had been Flagg. Buck had laid in wait for them and gotten information from them, but Flagg and his group had then tried to kill Buck later. If not for some unknown intervention, someone called the Llamajuna, Flagg and his men might have very well succeeded. 

She had to go to Throm. Try and find Flagg and interrogate him. The admiral had already dispatched a couple of people, including Twiki and Theo to Cronis to interrogate Kormand and his cronies, which, she was loathe to admit, was something of a relief. She would have had a hard time dealing with her rapist, even now. 

“What have you dug up, Wilma?” the admiral asked. 

Wilma started, not having heard Asimov approach. “Information on Flagg, the man who kidnapped Buck and Hawk. 

“How useful is it? The Galactic Council is ready for us to resume normal operations.” 

“Normal operations?” Wilma asked, exasperated. “How can anything be normal when two of our top men have been kidnapped with no apparent trace?” 

“I understand, Wilma,” Asimov said. “You know I do. But this is a very sophisticated and expensive research vessel and they feel that orbiting Neckar for two months is much longer a time than we can really justify.” Seeing Wilma’s deepening anger and frustration, he hastened to add. “And they do not mind us continuing to investigate Buck and Hawk’s disappearance, but they want us to head to Taurus quadrant.” 

“The information that I have found so far tells me where Flagg may be headquartered,” Wilma said, deigning not to even go into assignments and missions. As far as she was concerned, there was only one mission of importance. 

“Where?” Asimov asked, his curiosity piqued. 

“Throm. And I intend to go and check it out.” 

“Throm? That’s Hawk’s home world,” the admiral said. 

“Exactly. Flagg is the man that Buck had dealings with when he was looking for Hawk,” Wilma explained. “And Flagg is the man who tried to kill Hawk and Buck when they were trying to get help for Koori.” She paused. “I thought I had remembered the name when Cordell Ahern gave it to us in the interrogation. I just had to dig up the particulars.” She gazed meaningfully at the admiral. “I do intend to go to Throm.” 

“I concur, Wilma,” Asimov said immediately. “As soon as possible. The longer this goes on, the harder it’s going to be to find the clues necessary to locate Buck and Hawk.” 

Wilma blinked, feeling her emotions close to the surface, but forcing herself to keep tight control. “I can go now.” 

Asimov knew what kind of anxiety his second in command was feeling and he nodded. “I would like you to take Lt. Corelli with you.”

Wilma smiled softly. “All right, but I will do the driving.”

Asimov looked puzzled for a moment. 

“The vehicle on Neckar,” Wilma prompted. 

“Oh, yes, I remember you mentioning that.” Then he smiled. “Just be careful. Both of you. This Flagg appears dangerous and he seems to have even more dangerous characters backing him.” 

“We will, Admiral.” 

It took only a couple of hours to make the necessary preparations and soon the pilots were winging toward Throm. 

“Colonel, remind me not to let you judge a Tortarian wampel race,” Anton said. He was sitting next to her in the four-seat starfighter, gazing in amusement as she drummed her fingers on the armrest. 

Despite her anxiety, Wilma had to chuckle, then she sighed. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Colonel, I believe you have acted with a great deal of patience. I would have been foaming at the mouth and tearing off the bulkheads if it was my fiancé out there,” Anton said. “But, yes, it’s that obvious.” 

“Lieutenant, first of all, there is no formal engagement and second of all, I have mentally torn off every bulkhead from here to Earth. But thanks.”

Anton snorted. “Begging your pardon, Colonel, but formal, schmormal. Captain Rogers seems to be bound by some twentieth century convention I don’t know about, but the whole ship has you two engaged, even if he hasn’t asked the proper question.” 

Wilma smiled sadly, remembering the conversation with Buck where they had discussed that very thing. “You are probably right, but it’s just a matter of time, provided we have it, of course.” 

“Colonel, Captain Rogers and Hawk are tough,” Anton assured her. “If there is any way possible, they’ll somehow find the means to escape from their kidnappers’ hands. He paused and then added, a jaunty note to his voice. “In fact, they may be sitting back on the _Searcher_ waiting by the time we get back.” __

_ _Wilma sighed. “I certainly hope so. It’s been over two months now.” _ _

_ _“Somehow, they’ll come out of this okay. They’re fighters, both of them.” _ _

_ _“I know, and I hope that’s enough.” _ _

_ _“And in the meantime, we’ll be able to take care of this character, Flagg.” _ _

_ _That, Wilma thought, would be a distinct pleasure._ _


	17. Chapter 17

When they landed in Neutralis and began their inquiries, Wilma was amused, as well as gratified to find that Flagg had left a trail that a baby could follow. He had apparently been paid very, very well and he was enjoying his ill-gotten gains with a vengeance. She and Anton had worked on a cover before they ever left the Searcher and continued fine-tuning their plans all the way to Neutralis. They were presenting themselves as civilians, not only looking to have modifications made on their ship, but also to find someone to do a job for them. Someone who was willing to do something illegal for quick money. Specifically Flagg.

As a precaution, all obvious identification had been stripped from the outside. The pair had worked out their story, trying to make it simple enough to explain without being overly trite. And so far it had worked. So now they were waiting in a somewhat disreputable bar where they had been told Flagg had been hanging out recently. 

“There he is,” Anton said softly, pointing. 

Wilma followed his gaze. There were a couple of other men following Flagg, but not more than she and Anton could handle them. Wilma pulled at a strand of radically lightened hair and nodded. “Let’s wait a few minutes and then approach him. We’ll do it the way we planned. You approach and I make eye contact. I hear he likes blondes.” 

“Sure thing, Colonel,” Anton said conspiratorially. 

“And I’m Lady Durren, not Colonel.” 

“Sorry, habit.” 

“Okay, just don’t forget when we’re talking to him,” Wilma said. The last thing she wanted was to do something that would cause Flagg’s people to contact whoever had Buck and Hawk, resulting in their deaths. She suppressed a shudder. This had to be done right. 

“Lady, you cut me to the quick,” Anton said in mock solemnity. 

Wilma smiled softly. When Flagg and his friends seemed to be settled and enjoying themselves, she motioned to Anton. He got up with easy nonchalance and sauntered over to the bar. 

Anton laid down the local equivalent of terran credits next to Flagg’s hand, and then gazed at the bartender. “This is for these gentlemen’s drinks.” The bartender nodded and began to take the money. 

Flagg stopped him. “I don’t take money from anyone I don’t know,” he growled. 

“That’s not what I heard,” Anton said. 

Flagg looked at him sharply. “I don’t want to be beholdin’ to the wrong people.” He paused a beat. “Why are you paying for our drinks?” 

“My patron wants your undivided attention for a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?” 

“That’s for the lady to explain,” Anton said, pointing to Wilma. She raised her glass of wine, her eyes looking seductively over the rim. “You willing to come over and listen?” he asked. 

“I’m willing to listen to anything, but I make no promises.”

“Fair enough,” Anton said with a boyish grin. He laid down some more money. “To keep your men happy while we chat,” he added, motioning to the three men watching expectantly. 

Flagg nodded and then followed Anton to where Wilma was sitting. She smiled as he sat down. 

“Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?”

“Lady Danielle Durren of the house of Dressis,” Wilma said smoothly.

“Lady Durren. What is it you would like me to do?” Flagg asked. 

“Kidnap someone for me,” Wilma said simply. “Someone from a rival house.” 

“Why don’t you have your own spies do that?” Flagg asked.

Wilma smiled sweetly. “It’s so messy if one of our own is caught doing these things.” 

Flagg sat back and smiled, seemingly entranced by either Wilma’s charms or by the thoughts of a very lucrative deal. Or maybe both. 

Anton was amused but didn’t show it. “You and your three men will get paid half in advance and the other half when the job is done,” he said. 

“That’s usual.” Flagg looked eager. “Exactly who is it we are supposed to kidnap and how much for the job?” 

“As I said already, someone from a rival house,” Wilma said evenly. “And the job, if completed, will be one hundred thousand credits.” 

Flagg almost fell out of his chair in shock. As it was, he choked on his beer. “Did you say one hundred thousand credits?” 

“Yes, I did. Do you want more?” Wilma asked, her voice almost a purr.

“Well, there is sure to be more security,” Flagg said tentatively.

“I think one hundred thousand credits will help you with security,” she said softly. Her voice held an edge, though. “And your three friends seem capable of assisting you.” 

“I have more men,” Flagg began.  
“Suit yourself, but the payment will be the same. It’s one hundred thousand credits whether you do it alone or do it with a hundred men.” 

Flagg nodded and looked at his cohorts as though doing some quick figuring. “What are the details of this assignment?”

“Not here,” Wilma said tersely. “I don’t want this information to have any chance of ending up in anyone else’s intelligence files, most particularly the Galactic Council.”

Flagg nodded. “Where do you want to meet then?” 

“There is an abandoned settlement in a place called the Valley of Eagles,” Wilma said. She was pleased when Flagg flinched slightly. “Do you know where it is? Or is there a problem with this meeting place?”

“Oh, no, Lady. It is certainly remote, though,” he said quickly.

“Just the way I want it. Sunrise then,” Wilma said, handing Flagg a pouch that jingled slightly. “Here are three hundred credits of earnest money.” 

“Sunrise,” Flagg agreed, his hand fondling the pouch. He sat unmoving for a moment and then when Wilma flicked her fingers in dismissal, he blinked and got up. “Until tomorrow then, Lady.” He reached for her hand as though to kiss it, but Wilma pulled it away. Getting up quickly, Flagg walked over to the bar, motioned to his cronies and left. 

“You think he believes it?” Anton asked. 

“I think the lure of one hundred thousand credits is way too much to ignore.”

Anton laughed. “Shall we go, Lady Durren?” 

“No, we wait a while, just in case Flagg is curious enough, or paranoid enough to try and follow us.” She waved to a waitress. “Shall we have some of that famous Neutralis brandy,” she asked Anton. 

“Of course, Lady.” 

============================= 

Buck stood outside Hawk’s cell. ‘Time,’ he signed and shoved the clothes through the bars of the cell. ‘Put the uniform on over your prison clothes,’ he added. Silently, Buck made his way to the guard station where the guard was sitting, chin on his chest, dozing just as before. The stun stick was sitting on the table and Buck carefully picked it up. Without a sound, he raised it to the men’s temple and then fired. The guard slid further down in his chair and then onto the floor. Buck confiscated the laser pistol and the key card and quickly returned to Hawk’s cell. The birdman was already changed and the helmet was on his head. To anything but a very close inspection, Hawk simply looked like another guard. 

With a bit of trepidation, Buck slid the card in the slot and was gratified to hear a slight click. The door slid open and Hawk walked out into the corridor. He paused and gazed meaningfully at his friend, who signed—‘Thank you.’ Buck nodded, grinning. Joy welled up, threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t help it. Buck grabbed Hawk in a fierce bear hug. Surprisingly, Hawk reciprocated, his face showing gratitude and relief as well as happiness. 

“Let’s go get Tigerman and blow this joint,” Buck whispered when they had backed away from each other. 

“Tigerman?”

“Yeah, that big hulking guy. I know him and I’m not going to leave him here.”

Hawk nodded and motioned for Buck to lead the way. They walked the corridors with more confidence than they felt, but they were unchallenged by the few guards they met. 

Soon they were at the loading facility where Buck walked up to one of the guards. “I’ve been told to take the beast into holding. The company sent us to try some behavior modification on difficult prisoners,” he said. 

The other man laughed. “Good luck. You and what assault force are taking him?”

“Just us and he won’t give us any trouble.” 

The guard shrugged. “Your bones, not mine.” 

Buck and Hawk walked over to Tigerman. Buck stood in front of the former royal bodyguard and declared, “You’re coming with us.” 

Tigerman growled his protest and then stopped, staring at Buck. 

“Come on,” Buck said and then in a whisper, he added, “Make it look good, but not too good. We’re getting out of here.” 

Tigerman growled and reached for him with manacled hands. 

Stepping back and then drawing his pistol, Buck said, “Make this easy, friend, because one way or another, you’re coming with us. My partner is stronger than he looks and he and I can carry you if need be.” 

With another growl and a shrug, Tigerman nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.” Buck led the way and Hawk followed Tigerman, his stun pistol out and ready. 

They walked down several corridors, occasionally stopping for Buck to orientate himself. Finally, he motioned to his two companions. “Back in the shadows while I check out the elevators,” Buck said softly. Again, with confidence he didn’t feel, Buck sauntered around the corner and checked out the elevators. He used the guard’s card and was happy to see the door open immediately. “Come on, guys,” he called over his shoulder. As he held the door open, Hawk and Tigerman dashed inside. The door closed and Buck heaved a sigh of relief. He motioned them to say nothing while he studied the elevator controls. With a silent prayer that his choice was right, Buck reached for the top button and then pushed it. 

Their elevator began a rapid ascent, one that seemed interminable. Finally it stopped and the door opened. Buck was ready with his laser pistol but there was no one near the elevator door. He could hear voices and he peered out cautiously. Hawk slipped past him, keeping low, staying behind a crate. Buck followed and heard the noise of a rollicking good craps game or whatever similar thing they played in this quadrant. 

With a grin, he signed to Hawk, ‘Let’s go.’ 

They slipped away from the game and toward a door haloed in brightness. The door had a slot and Buck slid the card in. With a satisfying sigh, their way to freedom slid open and they blinked in early morning sunlight. Buck handed Hawk a pair of sunglasses and put on his. No one said anything for a moment and then Tigerman pushed them both out several paces so the door would shut behind them. 

Still, Buck stood as one entranced, watching as the red-gold rays streamed over the distant mountains and touched the verdant growth just beyond the clearing. 

“Oh, God,” Buck breathed in fervent gratitude. “I never thought to see the sun again.” 

“Make-Make has been good to us,” Hawk added. “Remind me to ask you, after we have truly escaped, just how you did this.” 

Buck brought himself back to the task at hand. “Yeah, now we have to get to the spaceport.” 

Hawk gazed into the distance. “How far is it?” 

“Not quite fourteen miles.” Buck looked at Tigerman’s manacled hands and ankles. “We need to take care of those.” 

Tigerman grinned ferociously and then proceeded to pull apart the chains that linked his manacles. Buck looked incredulous and the felinoid barked his pleasure. Then he sat down and did the same for his leg chains. When he was done, there only remained the iron manacles around his wrists and ankles. Buck took the guard’s card and stuck it in the slots in the manacles, releasing them. Tigerman rubbed his wrists when Buck had finished and then got to his feet. 

Hawk looked slightly amused over the entire incident, then he looked dubiously at the thick foliage. While it wasn’t a jungle ahead of them, it was fairly thick foliage, with areas of tall trees, interspersed with savannah-like plains. It stretched upward toward low mountains that appeared about nine miles distant. “If it is that far to the spaceport, then we need to get started, especially if you have the same problem you had in the recrea….”

“How do you know about that?” Buck interrupted, gazing intently at his friend. 

“We go,” Tigerman interrupted. 

“Yeah, we can talk as we walk,” Buck said, his euphoric mood damped a bit by Hawk’s reminder. “I do have a plan.” He led them to the edge of the forest. They plunged in and walked just inside the forest until they reached a set of tracks, which led into a large building. Several guards were walking around the outside of the building. “I thought so,” Buck said softly. “They load up the raw crillite down below,” he said and then looked at Tigerman. “That’s where I saw you.” 

Tigerman nodded. “Several days ago. Felt you.” 

“Felt me?” Buck asked, incredulous. “Hmm, anyway, they send the canisters up here to the building and load them into the local equivalent of boxcars and send them to the spaceport, probably by android or drone.” 

“So we commandeer one?” Hawk asked. 

“No, but we make them think that we have,” Buck replied. “Let’s follow the tracks until we are out of sight of this operation.” 

They were able to travel fairly quickly along the edge of the forest for about a quarter of a mile until they were well out of sight of the building and guards. Then they waited a few minutes until they saw a rectangular wheeled vehicle rumble slowly down the tracks. A robot sat up front. As the car passed, Buck dashed up and grabbed a handle, stepping up to the cab of the boxcar with very little trouble. 

The robot looked at him, his face registering puzzlement. “We are not equipped for passengers,” it said in a monotone. Buck pulled his laser pistol and fired point blank. With a sizzle and a pop, the robot fell over. Reaching in, Buck jerked the robot out of the cab and tossed him to the ground. Carefully, he slid along the narrow walkway to the cargo door. Another shot with his laser and the door slid open with a protesting screech. Three crillite canisters lay inside, secure in their holding cradles. Satisfied with his false trail, Buck dropped to the ground where he found his companions had been following his progress.


	18. Chapter 18

“I knew if they had robots manning these things, they would know if anything different happened to their transport vehicles,” Buck explained. “So when the people at the spaceport check on the status of this car and the people down in the mines realize that we are gone, they will put two and two together and figure that we hopped the train for a free and easy ride to freedom.” 

Hawk nodded. “They will be waiting for us at the terminus, thinking to recapture us there.” 

“Yes, or stop the train to capture us along the way.” 

“How did you find out about all of this, Buck?” Hawk asked. 

“Relearned a little rock climbing and then I prowled through the administrative offices each night.” Buck paused. “Let’s get off the beaten, uh, track and we can continue,” he suggested. They walked back into the forest where Buck pulled out a crude map and a compass. He pulled of the sunglasses and shoved them in a pocket. “Part of the way, we can travel somewhat parallel to the train route, but there’s a point here where we can save a few miles by cutting across.” He showed the others the drawing he had made, then looked at both men who were regarding each other with curiosity. 

“Sorry. I guess formal introductions would be in order,” Buck said, embarrassed. “Hawk, this is Tigerman, former bodyguard of the Princess Ardala, youngest daughter of Draco, ruler of the Draconian Empire. Tigerman saved my butt once.” Buck peered meaningfully at the felinoid. “Your being here wouldn’t have anything to do with that would it?”

Tigerman shook his head. “No. This time Kane.”

“But I’m sure you were punished for laying hands on Ardala,” Buck said. “I’m sorry, Tigerman. I know we had our differences, but….”

“Done and now I am free,” Tigerman interrupted. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Buck pointed to Hawk. “And this is Hawk, my close friend and co-worker on the _Searcher_.” __

_ __ _

__

Hawk nodded an acknowledgement as they continued through the forest. While they were walking, Buck explained how he was able to get out of his cell and explore the mine corridors and various parts of the mine administration offices. 

A short time later, Hawk said, “Buck, there is something I must ask.” 

Buck had a sneaking feeling he knew what it was. “Yeah?” 

“I knew about the recreation area because Beros brought me into his office that day. I had tried to escape. He showed you on a vid screen working out with a couple of guards. He timed it well; you collapsed shortly after he turned on the screen.” 

“He told me it was a reward and the withholding of medication was a punishment for getting smart-mouthed with a guard,” Buck said tersely. “Apparently it was also a show for you. What did he do, coerce your good behavior by threatening to withhold my meds?” 

“Basically, yes, Buck,” Hawk said. “But he said the treatment was only a respite. It did not eliminate the parasite.” 

Buck snorted. “Not surprised. The doctor told me it took a long time to cure. I wonder how much bull is in those explanations.” 

“I have no reason to doubt what Beros told me in that regard,” Hawk said softly. “When did you have your last dosage?” 

“Well, thanks to Beros’ little show, I’ve been given my dosage at the evening meal the past few weeks. I would say I have about sixteen hours, maybe more, maybe less. I calculated that we should be able to get to the spaceport in that amount of time if all goes well, and even if I can’t pilot, you certainly can.” He gazed meaningfully at Hawk. “And even if takes longer, there is nothing that can negate this moment of freedom, Hawk. Absolutely nothing.” They continued walking in silence. “I thought I understood freedom. I thought my background as an American citizen would make freedom something as ingrained in my soul as breathing. But it isn’t. When I saw the sun, the forest, the hills and mountains a little while ago, I felt free as I had never felt free before.” 

“I understand, Buck,” Hawk said. “I totally understand.”

==========================

Wilma waited inside the shuttle for Flagg to arrive. They had come during the night, and under the cover of darkness had set up the ambush. Anton would be waiting in plain sight, while several other members called in from the _Searcher_ waited in strategic places overlooking the rendezvous site. Only Flagg’s innate paranoia would cause problems, but Wilma felt that his greed would outstrip his suspicious nature. She also felt they had chosen well, this being the clearing where Hawk’s village had once stood. Only the statue of Make Make stood as a mute sentinel over the once vital settlement. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

How fitting, Wilma thought, that they would be meeting where Flagg and his men had reportedly stood with bloody hands and hot lasers over a year ago. Now she checked her own laser pistol, as there were still things that could go wrong in an operation like this, despite all their careful planning. And she waited. It was light outside the rented shuttle, but the sun had not yet shown itself over the craggy peaks. 

Finally, the sun rose and there was still no sign of Flagg. Wilma had begun to wonder if they had misjudged the mercenary when the whine of a distant shuttle came to her ears. She smiled and then shuddered, realizing she would be alone with this slimy weasel. This time, though, she would be in control. Yes, she would definitely be under control, she reminded herself more forcefully. And this was not Erik Kormand. 

Forcing herself into a semblance of calm anticipation, Wilma listened as the shuttle settled nearby. The door to her own shuttle was open, the outside sunlight augmenting the interior lights, allowing her, as well as her visitor, to see the rich opulence of this rented shuttle. The bulkheads had been covered with richly ornate gilded wallpaper and the lighting fixtures were a type of crystal and gold that caused the light to sparkle and twinkle like dancers. The floor was carpeted and the seats were plush, the material a deep, dark rust. An oval table of simulated wood stood in the middle of the shuttle’s main room. 

Wilma settled with queen-like grace in the main chair as she heard Anton talking with Flagg. After a brief exchange and then a short silence, during which Wilma concluded that Flagg was quickly checking out the area, the clicking of boot heels told her that her visitors were arriving. Someone she didn’t recognize came aboard first. 

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low but filled with authoritarian command. 

“Krint,” the man said. “Just checking out things for the boss.” 

“Tell Flagg to get in here if he wants to discuss this deal. Otherwise, I will go back to Neutralis and find someone less . . . shall we say- timid?” 

The man nodded and quickly left. Flagg entered alone. Wilma had been counting on the man’s greed; Flagg would not want anyone else to hear the terms of the deal. Anton and the others could handle Flagg’s men while she would deal with Flagg. “Sit down,” Wilma said with a smile. 

Glancing around, Flagg sat across from her. “Exactly what are the terms and details of this job you want me to do?” he asked. 

A small signal buzzed in her ear. Anton and his men were ready. “Just this,” Wilma said, raising her hand where she had a tiny laser pistol hidden. Before Flagg could even register what was happening, she had fired. As he slumped to the lushly carpeted deck, Wilma heard the sound of other lasers. 

Wilma flitted to the door, using various pieces of furniture as possible shields. Carefully, she peered out and saw Anton grinning at her. “Smooth as glass, Colonel,” he said. 

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied with a smile. “Let’s load them up and get them back to the _Searcher_.” She gazed in satisfaction at the five men lying unconscious on the ground. It had gone smoothly without anyone getting hurt. Maybe the tide was turning in their favor now. Maybe they could get the answers that they had been looking for these past weeks. Maybe they could soon find Buck and Hawk. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

While the men put force restraints on the prisoners and loaded them up in the shuttle, Wilma walked through what remained of Hawk’s home on Throm. There were very few vestiges of the homes left. Only a couple of stone foundations remained . . . and the graveyard. It, too, remained, a horrible reminder of man’s cold and callous depravity. She remembered when she, Hawk, Goodfellow, and Buck had visited last. Hawk had worked here. Alone, at his request. She and Buck had examined the caves with Dr. Goodfellow. Hawk did not even want them watching. It was something he had to do by himself he had told them. Only later had they all visited the cemetery together. 

Wilma stopped in front of one stone marker. She reached out and touched the markings that were already beginning to fade. Koori’s parents, she had been told. At the base of the slate-like stone marker was a black volcanic-type rock. Wilma wondered if it was what Hawk had used originally. Picking it up, she traced the fading symbols. She felt a rightness about what she was doing, a warmth inside, even a feeling of power and Wilma wondered if the symbols were more than just the names of Koori’s parents. She remembered Hawk saying that the markers were as much a remembrance for any sentient beings that might come to this valley, as they were a tribute to his own dead. Wilma sincerely hoped that anyone who came here might understand what happened in this place and feel a determination to work toward ending that kind of hatred. It had been a hard time for Hawk, a very hard time and it had taken weeks, even months before he had opened up and talked even a little bit about his feelings. 

The black marks seemed to jump out at her as she traced. It was uncanny, but she felt the warm glow of someone’s thanks. When she was finished, Wilma sat back in satisfaction. Then she saw other stone markers and began tracing the symbols on those as well, feeling even more the warmth of some power at work, a power that she could not at this time understand. She began to wonder if these people, so cruelly taken from life still had some presence here; if that was what she was feeling. 

“Colonel?” Anton said from behind her. 

“In a minute,” she replied, refusing to let anything keep her from finishing her task. Wilma only vaguely heard Anton walk away from her while she moved to another stone marker. When she finished the last, Wilma sat back in satisfaction, seeing the dark, bold symbols against the light-colored stones. Even though she didn’t know what they meant, she still felt a kind of joy in their renewal. 

Wilma turned and saw Anton watching her from a short distance away. “All of Hawk’s people are here,” she said. “Except for Koori." 

He nodded. “I think Hawk would be pleased.” 

“There’s great power here,” she said, wondering why she said it. But it was true. It was as though Hawk’s friends and family were standing by, watching, maybe even helping them. Even as she thought it, she knew it was true. She had felt coldness the first time she visited here, almost an animosity; now she felt acceptance. 

“Considering that Flagg might have been part of this massacre do you think they could have been helping?” Anton asked reflectively. 

Wilma smiled and walked toward the shuttle. “I was wondering the same thing. But now I don’t doubt it for a minute. Hawk has mentioned how he has felt the presence of his wife at times.” She stopped and gazed over the valley. “Let’s get back to the Searcher and interrogate our prisoners. They may have more to say than just about Buck and Hawk’s disappearance.” 

“I would say they might, Colonel,” Anton said with a smile. “After you?” 

They entered the shuttle and saw a slightly groggy, but very angry Flagg cursing the lieutenant standing guard over the six prisoners. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he demanded. 

“Why, Mr. Flagg, we are going to take you and your friends to _Searcher_, where, under the direction of the Galactic Council, you will be questioned about the disappearance of Captain Buck Rogers and Hawk.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“What?” sputtered Flagg. 

“Oh, and incidentally, you will be questioned about the massacre of these people here in the Valley of Eagles.” 

“That was almost two years ago!” Flagg cried out. 

Wilma smiled sweetly. Doesn’t really matter, Flagg.” 

Flagg opened his mouth and then shut it again. He glared at her and finally said, “Who are you?” 

Wilma motioned for Anton to begin pre-flight activities. The other men left for their own ships. “Colonel Wilma Deering, second in command of _Searcher_ and former commander of the Earth Defense Directorate forces. Any other questions?” she asked tersely before turning back to Anton. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Everything’s fine, Colonel,” he said from the cockpit. “If you just want to keep our guests company, I’ll get us off the ground.”

“All right, Anton. It’s all yours.” Wilma settled herself in one of the plush chairs as Flagg glared at her. “Cheer up, Flagg. We do treat our prisoners decently, which, I presume is better than can probably be said for Captain Rogers and Hawk.”

“You’ll be sorry you did this!” Flagg declared. 

Wilma smiled again. “Oh, no. I am not in the least sorry.” The ship’s engines came to full power and then with smooth precision, lifted off. “Not in the least,” Wilma murmured. 

===========================

Ardala stood looking out the view port at the cloud-enshrouded planet Kresis IV, her foot tapping with impatience. “Captain, I want to speak to Kerok immediately.”  
“Yes, Your Highness.”

Soon the ship’s commander came back to her, bowing low. “The message I received, Your Highness, was that Kerok is asleep and can be reached in the morning, approximately eight hours from now.” 

“What?” she cried. The captain began to repeat his message. “Never mind,” she cut him off angrily. “I am going to my chambers. Wake me in seven hours.” With her head held high, Ardala turned on her heel and left. 

Seven and a half hours later she was in a small shuttle heading for the spaceport of Bissen at first light. Within a short time, Kerok was sitting at his desk looking distinctly annoyed. “You want to know about what, Princess? A slave?” 

“This slave, Kerok,” she said, showing the merchant a picture.

“Why, if I may ask?” 

“You may not ask. It is my own business if I wish to inquire about a slave,” Ardala snapped, then reined in her emotions. Anger was not the way to get what she wanted here. She had learned that lesson well from the War Witch when she had traveled to Pendar. “This slave has value to me and he was sold without my permission. I would like him back.” 

“Very well, Princess Ardala. I will check, but please be aware that I broker slaves to many markets,” Kerok said. “You might have to check out several worlds.” 

Ardala paced only once around the room while Kerok looked through the records on his computer. 

“Hmm,” Kerok said to himself. “Hmm….” 

Ardala refrained from saying anything although she wanted to wring the small man’s neck for being so slow. 

“It would seem that your bodyguard was part of a group of slaves that were sold by your father. I saw no particular need for any of them, so I sold the whole group of them to another slave broker named Mellis.” 

Ardala was ready to scream in frustration. “And where do I find Mellis?” 

“On Xrix VII, Your Highness.” 

With a sigh, Ardala, simply nodded her thanks to the man and turned and left, her ever-present android bodyguards behind her. Among her black thoughts was one that told her that someday she was going to get rid of those irritating creatures.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

They continued walking, almost parallel to the track, stopping to watch as one of the cargo trains rolled by, then ignoring them in their quest to put as much distance as they could from the mines. When the sun was almost completely overhead, Buck called a halt. “We are going to cut across these hills,” he said, referring to his crudely drawn map. 

Hawk gazed in the direction indicated. “It looks pretty rugged, Buck. Will that not slow us down?” 

“Maybe, but it will slow them down, too. Especially if they think we are following the train route.” 

Hawk gazed meaningfully at the terran. “Buck, I sense you have a plan.” 

Tigerman silently looked at both before shrugging his shoulders and studying the area around them. He slipped into the trees, signing that he would catch up to them shortly. 

Smiling, Buck said, “I have several things cooking in my mind, actually, but I am hoping that straightforward sneakiness works best.” 

“And if it does not?” 

“Then we deal with that bridge when it comes time to cross it.” 

Somehow Hawk knew that there was a part of this plan that Buck wasn’t telling him; something that he knew he wouldn’t like. “Buck….” 

“Trust me, Hawk.” 

And the birdman had to be content with that. They were free from the mines after all and that was more than he had even hoped for for at least two months. 

Tigerman growled softly to get their attention. He held a large yellowish fruit in each hand. “Good for me, good for you, I think,” he said, handing one of them to Buck and the other to Hawk. 

It was obvious to Buck that it must have been good, considering the juices that ran down the felinoid’s chin. His stomach growled audibly and he broke open the yellow globe, muttering, “What the hell.” He noticed Hawk doing the same. Buck sniffed. The aroma was delicate almost like banana mixed with coconut. He let a little of the juice dribble into his mouth. The taste was not unlike the two fruits. “You do realize, Tigerman, that if this stuff is battery acid, you have to carry us to the spaceport,” Buck quipped. 

Tigerman looked puzzled and then barked a short laugh. “Draconians, humans eat same things. This good for Draconians, good for you.” He gazed at Hawk, who was still examining his fruit. “Not sure, you.” 

Hawk sniffed again and then took a slight taste, testing with all of his senses, much as he figured Tigerman had, to see if the fruit was edible for him. He detected nothing that was harmful to him and he bit into the flesh of the globe. “It is nourishment,” he murmured. 

“Almost like a daiquiri,” Buck murmured as he ate his fruit. “But I think we need to eat as we travel. No time for dine-in privileges.” 

Hawk nodded, not even delving into Buck’s first statement. 

“Tigerman,” Hawk said as he ate his fruit. “Can you sense water near? In that direction?” he asked, indicating the route that Buck had set them on. 

Tigerman sniffed and then nodded. They walked briskly along an animal trail that led in the general direction in which they needed to go. Within a few moments Hawk heard, then scented a nearby stream. Shortly thereafter they all stopped and drank their fill before continuing on. 

Consulting his map about mid-afternoon, Buck nodded in satisfaction. “See the mountains ahead?” he asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer. “We are on the right track.” 

Hawk again looked dubious. “Going over those mountains will definitely slow us down.” 

“According to the survey map I got this from, there is a pass through this range,” he replied, setting off again. “And going this way will shave off miles from the other route.” 

Despite his protests, as they continued along this route, Hawk began to feel a strange sense of excitement that was unrelated to their escape. This was the type of terrain that he loved so well. While the mountains ahead nowhere matched the craggy heights of Throm, they were still mountains. He glanced at Tigerman and saw a look on the felinoid’s face that indicated that he, too, was at home in mountain heights. Hawk could not quite understand Buck’s decision to take this route, at least not yet, but he would enjoy it nonetheless.

They kept climbing, picking out the sometimes non-existant path as Buck consulted a compass. Then they came upon a solid rock wall. “Buck, which way do we go now?” There was no answer and he turned to his companion. Buck was gazing back toward the way they had come. “Buck?” 

Buck turned to him. “Uh, there is a pass around here somewhere. Should be near. We need to look for it.” He turned to Tigerman. “You look that way and . . .” 

“I will look this way,” Hawk interjected. “You rest. You appear to be a bit winded. Tigerman and I are very familiar with this type of terrain.” He paused. “It is only right, after all. You are the one instrumental for our escape.” 

Buck gazed at his friend, but could not see anything below the surface with his suggestion, certainly nothing to indicate that Hawk was aware of what was going on inside him. Buck couldn’t explain it; he was feeling an almost physical urge to return to the mines. He sighed and then nodded, sitting down on a rock to rest. He was tired. While he had spent a great deal of time traversing the mine tunnels, he had not slept much and there was a great deal of difference between walking in flat corridors and traipsing around hilly terrain. He consulted with the map in his hand. “I think we may be a bit too far south,” he called out to his companions as they searched for the pass. 

The sun was warm on his back, but it also served as notice that they needed to hurry, to get through here before sunset. 

Within a few minutes, Tigerman returned, pointing to the south. Calling out to Hawk and then following the bodyguard, Buck soon sighted an almost imperceptible animal trail. So far they had not been bothered by animals, although there had been plenty of evidence of such. While Buck didn’t want to tempt fate, he knew that the trails were much easier going than trying to make their own paths through the brush. He nodded and Tigerman led the way, sure-footed and confident. Buck could only imagine that Tigerman, like Hawk, was a child of the heights. 

The path led into a pass, which took them between two fairly rugged mountains. Soon they were looking down on a small, but flat plateau and a valley beyond that. 

Buck felt hope stirring once more; despite the exhaustion he had been fighting. They would make it. Then he felt his hands trembling. 

“Buck, are you all right?” Hawk asked, his voice filled with concern. 

“Yeah. Just tired.” 

“Perhaps we should take a moment to rest,” Hawk suggested. “A misstep here could be disastrous.” 

“No!” he snapped, then he reined in his nervousness. He thought about Hawk’s statement. Now was the time to reveal the other part of his plan. The part that he had hoped that wouldn’t be necessary to implement. “Hawk, Tigerman, how far do you think we have to go?” he asked, pointing to a shining beacon in the valley that indicated the spaceport. 

Tigerman grunted, but said nothing, only looking at him with his dark, golden-flecked eyes. 

“I would say we have gone somewhat more than half of the distance, perhaps close to eight miles. But this is a downhill journey from here and should be much quicker,” Hawk said. 

“Except for the climb down from the plateau,” Buck said. “And it will be dark in a few hours, not enough time to make it to the spaceport before dark.” 

“We can steal a ship under the cover of darkness,” Hawk said. 

“But it will be harder to do that if they are expecting someone,” Buck returned. 

Hawk looked at him sharply. “What are you suggesting, Buck?”

“I am beginning to feel, um, a bit strange-- weird.” He paused and took a deep breath. The sun now felt almost uncomfortably hot and again, Buck longed to return to the mines, to get the medicine that would alleviate what he was feeling. And that, too, made him uncomfortable. How long had it been? He had taken his last dose before supper, when he had put away his equipment. Then he had waited about six hours after dinner before initiating the breakout. A couple hours or more to actually get to the surface and away from the mines, and they had been walking for over fourteen hours. It had been twenty-four hours since his last dosage. He sighed, realizing that he was right to have come up with this contingency plan. “You know about the sickness that affects humans in the mines. In a few hours I will be a detriment to you two.” 

“We are in this together, Buck,” Hawk said forcefully. 

Buck shook his head. “Hear me out.” 

“Only if we continue walking,” Hawk insisted. 

“All right,” Buck replied. “See that river down there?” he asked pointing. The others nodded. “There’s a waterfall where it goes over the plateau. At least that’s what the map said. That’s where we’re heading. Let’s go a bit further and I’ll explain what I have in mind.” At Hawk’s frown, he added with a slight smile. “We have to go that way, anyway.” 

They set out again and found that it was just as Hawk had said. It was much easier. The rocky trail soon gave place to a slightly switch backed dirt track. Within an hour they had reached the plateau. The sun sat at the top of the mountains behind them. Here Buck outlined the rest of his plan. “At the waterfall, we are going to stage your death, Hawk.” 

Hawk said nothing, only looking incredulous. 

“They know my condition and figure they can pick me up anytime. I suspect that they figure Tigerman would take to the hills and fend for himself.” 

Tigerman growled softly and nodded. 

“But they would expect you to try to escape off planet.” 

Hawk nodded, conceding that much. “Go on, Buck.” 

“So we stage your death and when I can’t go on any longer, you and Tigerman will continue to the spaceport. They won’t be expecting either one of you to show up, so the theft of a fighter will be a surprise.” 

“Buck, if you are sick like you were before, I cannot leave you behind.” 

Buck turned to face Hawk directly. “You’ll have to. Don’t you understand? Someone has to get word to _Searcher_. They aren’t going to come here unless someone gets word to them,” he pleaded with his friend. “That someone has to be you.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Growling softly, Tigerman finally spoke. “You are right.” 

Hawk looked at him in despair. “No, I cannot do that!” he cried out, his voice desperate in his anguish. 

“Hawk, you have to,” Buck repeated. “I don’t see any other way.” He was equally fervent. 

They kept walking, the setting sun continuing to beat down on their backs. Buck felt as though he was in a furnace. He jerked off the outer jacket, using it to wipe the sweat from his face. Tigerman went into the surrounding brush and came back with more of the fruit. They ate as they walked, each man in his own thoughts. The juicy orb quenched his thirst, but the fruit felt like a stone in his stomach. Buck turned to Tigerman. “I know there are animals in the brush. I’ve heard them. Do you think you could catch and kill one?” He paused to let Tigerman answer. When the felinoid nodded, he continued. “We need some kind of evidence of Hawk’s death; blood evidence.” 

With a soft growl, Tigerman nodded again and then slipped into the dense brush that grew along the base of the mountains and onto the plateau. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Hot, tired. How about you?” 

“Tired, but hopeful,” he replied. “Do you really feel you cannot make it to the spaceport?” 

Buck sighed. “You told me you saw that little performance in the rec room. Tell me honestly that you think I can.” He paused and took a deep breath. “As much as I would like to be hopeful, I don’t think I’ll make it past sunset.” He smiled. “I’ll do my best, though.” 

“That is all we can do in a situation like this.” 

“Just get back to Searcher, Hawk. That’s all I ask,” Buck said. 

“I will, Buck. By Make Make, I will!” Hawk declared. In his heart, though, he continued to hope they would make it off-planet together. 

They continued toward the waterfall, guided more by the dull roaring sound than by the compass and map that Buck still carried with him. The sun had set by the time they reached the falls. Tigerman had still not shown up, but Buck knew the bodyguard would have no trouble following them. He wiped the sweat from his face, wishing it would cool down. As he had before, he mentally cursed the damnable parasite. 

“There are several places where this death can be staged, Buck,” Hawk said.

Buck looked but only vaguely registered what Hawk was saying. The heat was making him sick and dizzy. He felt Hawk’s hand on his arm. 

“Buck,” Hawk said gently. “Buck.” Again the non-registering. “Buck, listen to me.” Hawk wished he had all of Sky Mother’s skills, but hoped what he had learned from her would be enough. He remembered his own clan’s healers, he remembered Koori’s abilities and he concentrated on his own inherent skills. He had to get Buck to focus on him. “Buck, look at me,” he said, repeating his command several times before the human finally looked at him with reasonable clarity. 

“H . . . Hawk?” Buck asked. His eyes held uncertainty and even a semblance of fear. 

“Buck, I want you to watch me and listen to me carefully.” Hawk only hoped he could break through whatever barriers this sickness was putting up. He wondered at this organism that could manifest in so many different ways. 

Buck nodded, gazing intently into Hawk’s eyes. 

Good, Hawk thought. “Buck, do you remember the trip we made to the healer? Our journey to the Lamajuna?” Buck nodded, his eyes still locked onto Hawk’s as the birdman spoke of the horrific journey, concentrating mainly on Buck’s part in that trek. Then he shifted to the first days on the Searcher and Buck’s attempts to break through the grief and pain Hawk had felt. Then with only a few words in his own language, he was among the stars, free, soaring, feeling the wings of his spirit catch the currents of space and of freedom. It exhilarated him and it mesmerized Buck. Finally, when there was no more to be said, he stopped and studied his friend. 

Buck blinked and gazed at him. He was still sweating in a heat that was internal but it was not as bad as before. “How did you do that?” Buck asked, incredulous.


	20. Chapter 20

“How did you do that?” Buck asked again. 

“It is something that is part of my people, Buck. But the women, especially healers, are much more proficient with it. Sky Mother tried to teach me a few of her methods while we were at Mendalis.” 

“Whatever, it worked,” Buck declared, his voice filled with gratitude. He still felt hot, his hands trembled slightly, but he could focus on what had to be done, not what was going on in his body. And the dizziness had abated. 

“Let’s get busy staging your death,” Buck declared. “While there’s still some light.” 

Hawk nodded. “I will climb down to one of the ledges near the bottom and begin to set this up.” 

“I’ll come and help you.” 

“No, Buck. You are feeling better, but I think it would still be counterproductive if you were down there, too. I think you would help better up here.” He tied the rope securely around a tree and tested it. Then he tied the other end around his body in the way that he had been taught growing up on Throm. 

Buck sighed. He knew exactly what Hawk was saying, and he didn’t like it, but he knew it was true. He felt hope that what his friend had done would be enough to get him to the spaceport, but that hope warred with fearful reality. “Yeah, I understand, Hawk.” 

“It would make this job go quicker if you were able to lower to me the things necessary to create the illusion of death, especially after Tigerman has returned.” Hawk looked meaningfully at Buck. “He will come back, will he not?” 

Buck nodded. “Yes, he will.” 

Carefully Hawk climbed down, repelling in spots where there were no handholds. Buck watched, also listening for Tigerman. As Hawk neared the base of the plateau, the terran looked out over the valley, spotting the spaceport immediately. It formed along the contours of the river that dropped so majestically below them. With a sigh, Buck thought it might as well have been across the galaxy. 

“Buck,” Hawk called out. Buck had to listen carefully over the roar of the river. “Lower some brush that I can use to fill out the guard’s uniform. And some limbs for the arms and legs.” 

Using the rope, Buck complied, sending down the needed materials until Hawk signed to him to stop. It was then he heard Tigerman behind him, the felinoid’s grunting cough a warning. Turning, Buck saw Tigerman with a dead furred creature over one shoulder and a dead feathered creature in his hand. 

“Where is Hawk?” he asked. 

“Down there,” Buck said. “He’s setting up the tableau.” 

Nodding, Tigerman pulled up the rope, using part of it to tie the animals around his waist, and then he climbed down, hand over hand, repelling with an easy grace that belied his bulk. 

Buck looked over the edge and in the dusk saw Hawk’s setup taking shape. In the mist of the waterfall and the distance from his position, the ‘body’ looked startlingly real. As Buck watched, Hawk took the furred animal, and with the knife the terran had confiscated, cut its throat, allowing the blood to pool around the fake Hawk, adding horrific realism to the scene. 

Hawk looked up and saw Buck watching. Signaling to his friend, he then returned to the more distasteful part of his job, that of taking the feathers from the dead bird to add to the dummy at his feet. His people had never taken life from the creatures of the skies before, only using the feathers of those that died in the wild or those that where molting. Even though he had not directly taken this feathered one’s life, he nonetheless felt responsible. 

He picked up the knife to begin the task and then felt Tigerman’s hand stop him. The felinoid gazed into his eyes. “I do,” he said simply, making the motions showing that he understood what Hawk needed to have done. Nodding gratefully, Hawk handed Tigerman the knife, but then hesitated before handing over the feathered creature. 

He let his hand drift over the creamy white and brown feathers, hovering over the head that had once held at least a spark of avian intelligence. Forgive me, he thought to the dead creature. Know that your life has been sacrificed to save many other lives. 

As Tigerman took the dead bird, Hawk looked out toward the distant spaceport where lights were appearing in the growing dusk. _Oh, Koori, you said you would be near to give me the strength that I need. Strengthen and comfort me now, my love_. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

The waterfall’s roar continued in his ears. Hawk felt nothing but the dampness of the falling water. There was little comfort. He knew for a surety now that he would have to leave his friend behind and while such forced separation did not cause the same searing pain that Koori’s death had, there was a kind of despair. He was afraid for Buck, afraid of this sickness that seemed to have such a tight hold on his friend’s body. Hawk knew how fiercely determined the human was, he had seen it time and time again, but could that determination keep him alive until he was able to get the medicine? There had simply been too much lately. 

Tigerman brought the feathered skin to him. Hawk saw no evidence of the carcass, something else for which to be grateful to his companion. Gently Hawk took the grass-like materials he had gathered and stuffed the skin, shaping it into a reasonable facsimile of his head. He placed it on the already prepared dummy, sprinkled more blood on it from the other animal and then stood back. Tigerman took the mammalian body away, presumably to dispose of it. 

The best judgment of this scene’s effectiveness would come from the top of the cliff, where Buck was. He looked up, but didn’t see the terran. “We will have to cross the river here, Tigerman,” he said to his companion. “I will go up and see how this looks and then help Buck down. It is almost dark and we need to get across the river soon.” 

Without a word, Tigerman grabbed the rope and began climbing up. 

“You can wait here, if you like,” Hawk said.

“No,” was all the felinoid said, as he continued up the rope. When he had reached the top, Hawk followed. Shivering as the cool breeze hit his damp clothes, the threadbare tunic and pants that had been issued to him, Hawk climbed steadily, finally reaching the top. He saw neither Tigerman nor Buck. Puzzled, he began looking in the brush, hesitating to call out. Finally, though, he called softly. 

“Here,” Tigerman replied from the trees to his right. 

Hawk followed the sound of the bodyguard’s voice and found Tigerman restraining Buck, who was struggling ineffectually against him. 

“Let me go back,” Buck cried out, gazing wild-eyed at both men. 

“We will go back,” Tigerman assured Buck, who began to calm down. 

Hawk was appalled. He laid his hand on his friend’s arm. “Buck.” 

Buck blinked, wiped the sweat out of his eyes and looked up at him, his gaze more lucid. He smiled weakly. “I told you I wouldn’t be able to see this through.” He sighed in resignation. “Damn them, I knew it.” 

“Buck, we can help each other,” Hawk protested, even though he knew Buck was right. “You got us out, we can help you get to the spaceport. Surely we can get the medication there.” 

Buck shook his head, shuddering as what felt like flaming fire shot up and down his body. “No, you and Tigerman will be able to get away easily without me in tow.” 

“No, I go with you,” Tigerman declared firmly to him. 

Buck gasped, “What?” He pulled in a deep breath and wiped his sleeve across his face. “Why?” He felt more in control at the moment, but didn’t know how long that would last. Tigerman’s declaration surprised him, but then, on quick reflection, didn’t surprise him. Despite the consequences, the bodyguard had remained loyal to Ardala, even though he had laid hands on her to let him go free back on the Draconian battle cruiser. 

“Alone here, you die,” Tigerman explained. “Hawk get help, we all free.” He paused a beat. “You helped me, I help you,” he said with finality. 

“You sure?”

Tigerman’s face was one that brooked no further argument. “Sure.” 

With Hawk and Tigerman’s help, Buck stood up. Buck gazed into the bodyguard’s eyes. “Thanks, pal,” he murmured, fighting a wave of dizziness. He turned to Hawk as his friend laid a hand on his arm to steady him. “Hawk, you need to go now. They’ve figured this all out by now and there’s no telling how quickly they’ll find me and Tigerman.” He wiped his face on his sleeve again. Then he grabbed Hawk’s arm and gazed earnestly into his friend’s eyes. “Be careful, Hawk. Get off of this misbegotten hell-hole and back to the Searcher.” He paused a moment. “Tell Wilma I’m all right. 

Don’t tell her about this,” he added, looking at his trembling hand. “Just tell her I’m all right.” 

Hawk felt helpless, even more helpless than he had when he realized that Buck was a prisoner of Erik Kormand. He was actually walking away; leaving someone who needed him desperately. All he could do at first was nod. Finally he found his voice and said, “I will tell her. And we will be back for you; for both of you.” He looked at Tigerman. “Thank you for what you are doing. You are truly a brave and honorable warrior.” 

Tigerman growled his thanks. “Buck Rogers beat me in a fight. Not fair. Want another fight.” He grinned fiercely. 

Even in his misery, Buck recognized what Tigerman had done. “I can’t believe it,” he said, looking at the felinoid in surprise. “You, Tigerman, the most deadpan bodyguard in the universe, cracked a joke.” 

“No joke. You cheated.” 

“Me cheat?” Buck cried out. “Not me. Just used what I learned.” He coughed, feeling the damnable parasite working in his chest. “When I’m well, I’ll teach you what I know.” 

“Good.” Tigerman looked smug.

“You need to go, Hawk,” Buck repeated to his shipmate. The first stars were beginning to show. 

“Yes, I know,” Hawk said softly. His hand grasped Buck’s arm in reassurance. 

“I’ll be okay, Hawk. I promise.”

Hawk nodded. “I know, Buck. And I will be back.” 

“You’d better. I think I’ve missed about forty dates with Wilma.” 

Hawk smiled softly, then he looked back up at Tigerman. “Take care of him.” 

The big humanoid nodded, growling softly. 

“When I get to the bottom, toss the rope down to make it look like I fell while repelling,” Hawk instructed. 

Again Tigerman nodded and he followed the birdman to the edge of the precipice. As Hawk reached for the rope, he turned again to Buck, who had not moved except to grab onto a tree limb. His tunic stuck to his sweat-dampened body and he was almost panting, whether in a struggle to get enough air into his lungs or because of the heat, Hawk could not tell. He could only pray that Buck would live long enough for rescue. His own chest felt tight, but in his case it was from the stress of the moment. 

He gave Buck a thumbs up and then began climbing down the seventy-five foot rock face. It was practically dark now and he lost sight of Tigerman almost immediately. Mist from the waterfall clung to his face and made the rope slippery and he had to concentrate on the task before him. 

At the base of the cliff, Hawk paused, then tugged on the rope. It fell limply at his feet and he arranged it around the ‘body.’ He looked back up the cliff, almost reaching for handholds to climb up and rejoin his friends. 

‘Go, Hawk, go now,’ a voice whispered in his ear.

“Koori?” 

‘Go now. If you are to save your friends, you must go now.’

“I am abandoning them,” Hawk protested even as he prepared to cross the river. 

‘You are saving them,’ Koori whispered. 

Hawk sighed, knowing the rightness of what he was doing, but feeling like a betrayer all the same. He jumped into the pool that had formed to one side of the main river channel. He reached the other side even as the ebony darkness enveloped the last of the dim light of day. Hawk pulled himself onto the bank and then walked along the river, slowly and carefully, not wanting a foolish misstep to end Buck and Tigerman’s chances. Finally, though, he had to stop when the way became too treacherous with mist-covered rocks, vines and other vegetation. As he sat huddled beneath a particularly large tree, Hawk only hoped that this planet had a moon that would help guide his way. 

He had a flashlight that Buck had confiscated, as well as night lenses, but he was loathe to use the flashlight for fear guards might be close enough to see the beam. And for the lenses to be effective there still had to be some moonlight. So Hawk waited. He could be patient. He was part of a very patient people. 

=================================== 

Wilma paced in the Admiral’s ready room, feeling frustration so intense she wanted to scream. 

“Wilma, I know you are anxious, but please sit down,” the admiral said.

“We are not much further along than we were before!” Wilma declared. She stopped pacing, gazing out of the view port, but couldn’t quite bring herself to sit down. 

“But I believe we are,” Asimov reassured her. “This Willis Garrott is a slaver who normally buys and sells in the Rix, Mandras, Hindel and Surrin quadrants. That has narrowed our search considerably.” He paused. “And we have been given specific orders to look into this situation, since it not only entails kidnapping but slavery, something the council is trying to do away with.” 

Wilma sighed and turned away from the star-filled portal. “I know, Admiral. I know and I’m grateful. But do you know how large those quadrants are? And there is the delay that we are having to make to Cronis as well.” 

“A very short, but necessary delay,” the admiral reminded her. “Since it became apparent that Flagg and his men were part of the group that massacred Hawk’s people. In light of how easily Buck and Hawk were kidnapped, we were asked to personally bring them to Cronis rather than to send them there in a shuttle.” 

“Yes, I know that, too.” Wilma finally sat down, but it was hard. Those named quadrants beckoned to her with chains of desperation. It would soon be three months now and her mind conjured up images that haunted her both day and night. 

“And as soon as the Council is finished getting what they need from us, then you are free to begin investigating the quadrant of your choice. The Searcher will position itself centrally among the quadrants.” 

Wilma nodded, knowing this was the best she, the admiral or anyone else could do.


	21. Chapter 21

Ril had never done a manhunt on the surface before. Indeed, he had never done a manhunt before at all on Bosk. That anyone could orchestrate and pull off his own escape was amazing, but to also break out two friends was truly in the realm of miraculous. He couldn’t help but admire the resolve and resourcefulness of prisoner twelve-sixteen, although he kept his feelings to himself. Dr. Beros had been absolutely livid, making no secret what he had in mind for the three men when they were brought back to the mines. 

Dr. Beros was a cold and calculating man, but his emotions were generally kept tightly in rein. However, when the escape had been reported to him, Beros had gone livid and then had screamed epitaphs that had been heard from the administrative offices to the main prisoner cellblock. The prisoners, even those new ones under edict of silence, had heard of the escape and been heartened, some even becoming unruly. 

Ril couldn’t believe how simple a thing it had been for twelve-sixteen, Buck Rogers, to effect his escape. That natural ledge had been around when the cells were chiseled out of the rock, but no one had thought anyone could climb up to it, or be able to travel along it with impunity. The terran’s cell had been destroyed as soon as the escape had been discovered, and all others under the upper ledge had been modified to prevent anyone from using that as an avenue of escape again. 

Still, Ril saw great patience on the part of the prisoner and saw, in his mind’s eye, instances of that patience in the past few weeks. Ril wondered about the other two fugitives. He knew of the friendship between the terran and the birdman, but wondered about the connection between the two prisoners and the other escapee, a felinoid that had once been a bodyguard in the Draconian capital. 

Regardless, here he was on the surface, tracking three prisoners. 

At first everyone had thought the escapees had commandeered a cargo carrier, but the vehicle had been found tampered with, but empty at the spaceport. He and his fellow guards had seen the ruse for exactly what it was, something to throw them off for a while. 

Now he and four other men were backtracking to where they had found the destroyed android. “Lieutenant, I think I found something,” one of the junior guards called out. 

Ril walked over and saw evidence of a trail into the forest. “It could be an animal trail,” he murmured. 

“Yes, sir, but it seems to be paralleling the tracks,” the younger man said, pointed. 

Ril nodded. The prisoners set a false trail but were still keeping close to an established transportation route. Very smart, he thought. They would not get lost, but could duck into the woods if anyone came to check. 

“Should make it easy to find them when the human prisoner misses his dosage.” 

Yes, Ril thought, there is that. How did Rogers plan on overcoming that? Was that the purpose of the Rrilling? Ril knew for a fact that there had been no shortage of the garox, so Rogers hadn’t been able to get any. That was the first thing Beros checked out, but the medical offices were kept tightly secure; more to keep the guards out than the prisoners. Garox brought very high prices on the black market. Ril felt the dosage the doctor had given him in its safety container in his pocket. “Macon, you and two men walk the cleared area, watching for any other signs of the prisoners while Ross and I follow this trail. If you find anything, call out,” Ril ordered. “And we’ll do the same.” 

“Yes, sir,” the young man replied. 

Ril motioned to Ross and they were soon swallowed up in the forest. While it was not dense, the wooded area was something he was not used to. The glare of the sun hurt his eyes and he pulled down his sunglasses. The others followed suit. “Anything on the sensor, Ross?” he asked. 

“Hard to tell, sir,” his companion, a first year rookie, replied. “There’s something faint and I think it’s humanoid, but it could also be something indigenous.” 

“Keep checking.” 

“Yessir.” 

They kept to the trail and, although Ril was untrained in this sort of tracking, he felt like, at times, he was seeing more evidence than that of animals passing by. 

After an hour on the trail that paralleled the cleared cargo track, Ril saw that it made an abrupt turn, going deeper into the forest. What did the prisoners have in mind? he wondered. He stopped and consulted his map and then checked his compass. He studied the rail again. “They are trying to go overland,” he said out loud. “Macon!” he called out, not bothering to use his communicator. 

There was a faint answer from the other party and he waited until they caught up with him. Then they all followed the path that led higher into the mountainous region.

The sun set while they were still climbing, but by then the sonic tracker was definitely picking up evidence of the passage of the three escapees. Ril called a short halt when the darkness became so complete that walking was dangerous. “Break out the night equipment. We’ll continue in a few minutes.” 

“But sir, won’t they be able to see us coming and hide?” 

Ril smiled. “Perhaps, but when we are that close, the sensors will definitely pick them up.” He paused. “And besides, you are the one who pointed out how debilitated the terran will be.” He consulted his watch. “It’s been over a day cycle by now. He ought to be feeling the need for his medication.”

“Yessir.” 

“Don’t feel badly, Griff, you do bring out the point that we need to be careful. If nothing else than to watch for ambush. The other two are not human and therefore not in need of the garox.” 

“Yessir.” 

They continued onward in the dark, taking only brief stops to rest. The moon rose making weird shadows but still they pressed on. Finally when they reached the more rugged mountain pass, the rookie called out, “Sir, I am getting definitive readings of three humanoids on this path.” 

“Good, Ross. You do point. Keep us on the right course. It would be easy to lose our way in these rocks.” 

The going was slower, but they finally reached the other side of the pass where a plateau stretched out before them. In the moonlight it seemed enormous, but in actuality, they only had a couple of miles before they reached the embankment to the valley below. 

Ril wondered if Rogers had seen that on the map and if so, why did he think this was the best route? With a shrug, he motioned the men to continue. They walked a bit more slowly, watching carefully, laser pistols ready. A short time later they all converged again on the main trail. 

After another hour they began to hear a sorrowful moan, soft at first, then as the sun rose over the eastern stretches of the plain, louder. Rill pulled off his night lenses and put away his flashlight. The rest of the group did the same. Ril led the contingent, carefully watching for anything. The sound of a waterfall became louder and louder, but he was not expecting the sight that met his eyes when they pushed through the last of the scrub brush. The Rrilling was bent over the terran moaning mournfully. The human appeared dead. 

=============================

Later Buck would gratefully have to admit that he didn’t remember a great deal of the night after Hawk left. What he did remember was in bits and pieces. 

“Go back now?” Tigerman asked. 

“No,” Buck said. “We let them come to us. They have to see that Hawk is dead.” His mind had cleared for the moment. His only worry, at present, was that someone would go down and investigate the body closely. If they did that then Buck only hoped Hawk got to the spaceport quickly and was away before the subterfuge was discovered. 

“Thirsty?” Tigerman asked. 

“Yes.” 

Tigerman went into the brush but was back within minutes. “Eat fruit,” he said, handing Buck half a globular fruit. 

The outside was hard, like a coconut, but the pulp was soft and mushy like mashed potatoes. The taste was sweet but nothing he’d write home about. Buck used two fingers to scoop out the soft meat and then he ate it, knowing that he needed the sustenance even if he didn’t have any appetite. He handed the empty hull back to Tigerman. “This should hold water,” he suggested, realizing that was what the bodyguard had in mind. His companion nodded and headed to a stream back on the trail. Soon he was back, both halves of the fruit filled with water. 

“You want some?” Buck asked. 

“Later.” 

Buck quickly drank down one cupful of water and dumped the other over his head. The cold water soothed his hot face and he sighed in relief. A slight breeze further cooled him. 

Animals began to call out from the bushes and the scrub forest behind them. The chirps and buzzing reminded him of his folks’ house in the suburbs, especially in the summer. “Sounds like home,” he said, getting up and walking a short back and forth path. He was tired of just sitting. A soft whiteness to the east told him that this planet had at least one moon. He gazed at the stars twinkling overhead. 

“Nearby animals harmless,” Tigerman said, misinterpreting what Buck had meant. 

“Those back home were, too. There were too many people, so there were just insects, frogs and birds. Had an occasional raccoon but they mainly wanted what the cats left behind in their dishes.” 

Tigerman grunted, but didn’t say anything. 

Buck laughed as he paced back to Tigerman. “The mosquitoes were the worst things that lived in my parents’ neighborhood, unless you counted Bailey Cranshaw, the neighborhood bully. That was the old neighborhood. Down near State. He really was a dangerous animal.” Buck felt his chest grow tight and he quit talking, sitting down to catch his breath. He was just babbling anyway. Suddenly the heat flared in his body again and he shuddered. He sat quietly, his back against a boulder and tried to suppress the dizziness that accompanied the heat. Buck saw the stars waver and then the world went black. 

================================

When the moon rose, it bathed the river with an ethereal glow. Dark shadows danced on the ground around him as the limbs of the trees swayed in the light breeze. Hawk adjusted his night lenses and got up, brushing leaves from his prison clothes. 

He turned back to the dark plateau. “Make Make palaianu et elestanu,” he murmured and then turned toward the spaceport. _God go with you_, he echoed in his mind. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Hawk made good time and several hours before sunrise, he was watching the activities of the spaceport with interest. The rail cargo tracks went right into the huge hangar bay and the crillite containers were loaded into the various spacecraft by androids. 

They did not trust the gems to human pilots, he noted. That was good, he thought in satisfaction and would make commandeering a ship much easier. He would still have to be careful. If they had any inkling that a humanoid had taken a ship, it would cause an investigation that would conceivably lead back to Buck and Tigerman. He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

The sun came up and Hawk watched, seeing how they loaded the cargo, how many guards there were, how many androids, what type of ships and how many of them. He got a feel for the schedule and the best way to initiate his planetary escape. He was anxious to leave quickly, but would not do anything premature that would endanger his chances of success. 

Hawk noted that the least busy time was the same time he had first arrived, the early hours before dawn. There were no rail shipments, and only cursory work on waiting ships. In the afternoon, Hawk took a quick break to go back into the forest and get something to eat and drink. Then it dawned on him. He had easily fooled other guards when he was dressed as a guard. If he could get a uniform he could fool them again. But Hawk would have to do it without somehow arousing suspicion. 

He waited in the shade until the sun set and then slipped into the outskirts of the little town. It seemed to be built with the purpose of entertaining off duty guards as well as being a shipping terminus. 

In the dark alleys, Hawk was almost invisible as he flitted silently from building to building. He passed brothels, but there were too many people and it was too noisy. He bypassed the taverns and casinos. Finally as the hours passed, Hawk was drawn back to the brothel nearest the spaceport. It was quieting down as drunken guards, after having their pleasure, fell into deep sleep, their companions by their sides. 

He had watched from a window as one guard hurriedly undressed, and saw that the human had the same build as himself. Hawk sat outside in the shadows, waiting until the muted giggles, moans and rustling turned to the deep breathing and snores of heavy sleep. At the same time the birdman wondered at the use of this planet. It seemed that it was verdant and abundant in its plant-life, the soil rich and yet the spaceport was the only manifestation of humanoid activity. That and the horrible life that existed several hundred feet underground. 

The mountains had enough to sustain his village on Throm, while the lowlands could grow crops for cities. Hawk shook his head unable to figure out the thinking of the inhabitants on this planet. 

Adjusting his night vision goggles, Hawk quickly peered in the open window. Thankfully, it stayed fairly warm at night and there seemed to be no extra money spent on comforts that humans liked such as temperature controlled air. All to the advantage of what he needed to do. With almost no sound, Hawk climbed over the windowsill and slipped inside. The guard’s pants, shirt and jacket were hanging on a bedpost, the helmet sat on a chair. Quickly, Hawk grabbed all four items and slipped back out again, staying in the shadows until he was well away from the building. 

Back in the brush, Hawk changed into the guard’s uniform carefully settling the helmet on until all vestiges of his head feathers were hidden. Scanning the area around the cargo ships, Hawk finally walked out of the brush and through a gate guarded by only one man. 

“What were you doing out there?” the guard demanded. “It’s after curfew.”

Hawk hesitated a moment, trying to come up with something plausible to say.


	22. Chapter 22

Hawk remembered a story Buck had told him. “Uh, it was too far to the, uh, head,” he stammered, hoping his hesitation sounded like embarrassment. 

The human laughed. “Especially after drinking some of that fresh Frimolian beer!” 

Hawk nodded. 

“Well, get back on duty,” the guard ordered. 

“Yessir,” Hawk replied in his best imitation of a human subordinate and walked toward the ships. There he found sensors calibrated to detect humanoid presence. That would pose a problem, he thought, but he also saw a checklist of sorts and studying it, realized that he could do the scans and make the proper notations. For the next hour, Hawk studied the equipment, the ships and the field, including the rail cargo terminus. He walked from one area to the other, just as he imagined the legitimate guard would. And indeed, near the perimeter of the spaceport, he saw other guards patrolling. 

Finally, when he determined it was near dawn, Hawk turned on the power to the scanner and began examining each ship. He was thorough and after each one, made the notation showing that a scan was done without any indication of intruders or unauthorized humanoids. Then he powered down the machine. He only hoped that the guard who was supposed to do this job would not be someone of a suspicious nature. Most he had seen seemed very lax in their duties. 

At the ship nearest the rail terminus, Hawk walked inside and checked out the cargo area. This one was already loaded and apparently ready to take off after sunrise. He checked for a good hiding place, one that would allow him quick access to the controls if he were discovered. Once he began this sequence of events, there would be no turning back. 

Hawk found no particular place that totally satisfied him, but he finally settled on one that was entirely shadowed, allowing him, in his dark uniform, to blend in to the background. He hunched down and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. A cargo canister partially obscured him from the view of not only the hatch, but the android, whenever it showed up. 

He waited patiently and was gratified to see the android coming through the doorway of the cargo ship. Hawk almost quit breathing, sitting stock-still. The android closed the hatch and dogged it, then it went to the pilot’s chair and began the preflight sequence. Soon Hawk felt the engines come on line and the pre-catapult countdown commenced. With a sudden jerk, the ship shot out of the hanger and into the upper atmosphere. 

They were away. Still Hawk waited, not wanting to do anything until they were near the stargate. He only moved enough to keep the circulations in his legs. After what seemed an interminable time, the android began programming in the numbers for the trip through the first stargate. Slowly, Hawk stood, watching the pilot intently. As the craft went through the stargate, Hawk struck, jerking the android’s head in such a way to disable it temporarily. It slumped limply on the seat, its hands twitching. Hawk pulled the robotic creature from the chair, dumping it on the floor. He studied the inner workings and made some adjustments to the android’s programming. Then he got into the pilot’s chair and took over the controls. As the ship approached the planet showing in his view screen, Hawk put the controls into manual mode and made a slight deviation. 

The radio immediately erupted into terse commands to relinquish control to surface tractor beams, and queries, but he ignored it, sending the craft into a wobbly roll, something indicative of a spaceship out of control. Then as the red-gold desert appeared in his view screen, he deftly worked the controls, guiding the ship erratically, but surely to a point near the edge of the desert where he could not only get away, but be able to walk to the spaceport before the sun could have any effect on him. 

The ground loomed closer. The communications were more strident and frantic. Hawk ignored them, concentrating instead on landing the ship. The winds were capricious, jerking the ship from side to side and Hawk understood why this port authority had insisted on using a tractor beam landing. With a horrifying rending of metal, the craft struck the surface, sending sandy soil flying everywhere, and plowing a furrow that no one could miss. 

Finally, the ship shuddered to a stop, its bulkheads dented on one side, torn open on the other. Hot blasting air reached him and Hawk knew it wasn’t entirely the backwash of the ship’s engines. Quickly, he located the android that had been flung to one side of the ship. He had wanted to put him back into the pilot’s chair, but one look at the robot and he decided against it. One of the cargo bins had been jerked loose from its cradle and had rolled over the hapless creature. Hawk decided there were no clues that could come from the android now as to what had happened here. 

Knowing the gem dealers would have recovery efforts underway almost before the ship had crashed, Hawk crawled out through the torn bulkhead, shading his eyes against the heat and intense sunlight. He gazed toward the spaceport and, despite the wind and thick dust, saw vehicles already on their way to his position. There was a rock formation close by and Hawk headed for it, shielding his face from the brunt of the wind. He would find shelter; wait until nightfall and then sneak into the spaceport, hoping that sometime soon, the wind would ease up. Within minutes, he found a crevice that sheltered him from the worst of the blowing dust and Hawk squeezed into it. Not knowing what planet he was on was the most pressing problem he had right now. That was his first priority when he got to the spaceport. 

The wind caught his head feathers and ruffled them. Despite his discomfort, Hawk felt a touch of euphoria. The air was hot and gritty; he was banged up after a less than stellar crash landing, but he was essentially free. He only needed to get to the town and he could find out what he needed to know, then obtain a ship and chart a course to Cronis, where he could find the whereabouts of the Searcher. Then Buck, Tigerman and the other prisoners could be rescued from the hell they had been stuck in for the past months. 

Over the howling of the wind, Hawk heard the grinding noise of well-used land vehicles. Then he heard voices, and listened intently. They came and went with the flow of the wind, but seemed to indicate that the consensus was android malfunction. Hawk smiled in satisfaction. Something was going right for a change. 

As the sun set, the vehicles began heading back to the spaceport with their cargo of crillite gems. The wind began to die down and Hawk ventured out of his hiding place. His limbs were cramped and sore and he felt exhausted, but he still went back into the wrecked ship and dug around for anything that might be useful. There was very little. After all, what would an android need with food, water or night lenses? 

Hawk did find a laser pistol and, surprisingly he found a couple of crillite gems lying innocently near the android’s body. Obviously one of the containers had been slightly ruptured and these few gems had been missed in the ‘clean-up.’ Maybe they had planned a more thorough salvage later. Regardless, Hawk knew these crillite gems, even though rough and uncut, would be valuable to someone. They would perhaps be his means of bartering for passage on a ship to Cronis or Throm. He put them in his pocket then looked around for more. Dragging the android aside, Hawk was surprised to find several more gems. That many lying around seemed more than coincidental and he examined the android even closer. The chest compartment was broken open and Hawk saw a pouch hidden inside the cavity. In the pouch was a king’s ransom in rough-cut crillite gems. 

Hawk realized that despite the safeguards, someone had figured out a way to smuggle crillite off Bosk. He also realized that whomever these were intended would want to come and collect their gems at the soonest possible moment. He would have to leave quickly and cover any evidence of his presence. The laser, he would keep. The pouch and android were returned to their original places. Hawk also kept the two gemstones he had originally found. Despite the risk, he had to have something he could use for trade. He only hoped that the confusion of the crash as well as the very nature of this being contraband would prevent anyone from figuring that there should be more gems. Finding nothing else of use, Hawk left the ship. He found a long-stemmed bush near the outcropping of rocks and uprooted it, using it to brush away his footprints in case the smugglers showed up before the next wind storm could wipe them out. 

With the lights of the nearby spaceport and city to guide him, Hawk set out. The air quickly turned chilly and he was glad for the jacket he had confiscated on Bosk. When he was about halfway to the city, Hawk heard the muted throb of a land vehicle’s engine. Soon he saw softly gleaming lights and he made his way to another outcropping of rock where he crouched to hide. The vehicle came closer and closer and then sped on by. Before it reached the crashed ship, Hawk set out again, sincerely grateful for the moonless night. 

Although walking in the sand was exhausting, the Tane-rapanui still made excellent time and was on the outskirts of the small city several hours before the sun rose. As before, Hawk surveyed the area, but unlike his time on Bosk, he only did so for a short time. He couldn’t afford to be out in this desert, in the sun, for very long. He was already thirsty and it wouldn’t do to get dehydrated. 

It seemed to be a town like the other one, based on the spaceport business plus some other industrial activity he couldn’t determine right now. There were warehouses, offices and some service oriented businesses. What few people he saw out at this hour seemed to be a mixed lot of humans and non-humans, the latter more appropriately garbed for the desert setting. Their garments were lose and flowing with cowled hoods. Most appropriate, Hawk thought. He only hoped he could find a set of the desert garb without experiencing much trouble. 

He crept through dark alleyways that separated stone or adobe-like houses. In a section of town he was in, the dwellings were plain, but like those of his own people when they had retreated to life in the mountains, they served the purpose. Window coverings were cloth or plastic tacked over open holes. Doorways were simply bigger versions of window with blanket coverings. No ornamentation, no modern conveniences. 

Hawk scouted several streets but found no shops. He listened and heard distant notes of a song, one made by electronic equipment or a very raucous band. Setting off in that direction, not sure he wanted to find out what was there, Hawk nevertheless realized that he wasn’t finding anything here in this part of the spaceport town. As he got closer to the source of the sound, the huts became even more decrepit, if that was possible. Suddenly Hawk heard a soft rustling noise nearby and looked down to see an enshrouded form almost at his feet. He bent down to check out the humanoid and felt the end of a pistol barrel in his ribs. _Kiris aniopilo_! (stupid!) he cursed silently. To have been so negligent after all this. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Into the hut,” a high-pitched voice hissed softly. “Now, or I’ll blow your head off and then rob you.” With a sigh, Hawk complied. 

==========================

Buck felt someone holding his head up, forcing something into his mouth. Water! Part of him was eager for the cool drink, eager for anything to quench the fire inside him, but another part of him, his rebellious stomach, wasn’t. He coughed and choked. Some of the water splashed on his face and that felt much better. He opened his eyes and saw Ril, the guard, and Tigerman kneeling over him, and he groaned, his disappointment bitter. He knew he was going to be captured, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. 

“Buck Rogers,” Ril said softly. “I have a dosage of garox that will alleviate all this, but I wanted to let it be your decision. If you don’t get the dosage, you will most likely be dead before we get you back to the mines. You will be free, though. Free of the caves, of Beros, and free of pain.” 

Buck saw caring in the expressive brown eyes and he was tempted. But he remembered what Hawk was doing, he saw Wilma’s face in his mind’s eye and he saw Tigerman taking the brunt of the punishment. Hawk would bring rescue for them all. “The medicine,” he choked out, feeling his world waver once more. 

Ril nodded and pulled out the little vial from his pocket. He popped the cap and heard the hiss that indicated the vial was ready. Ril held the vial against the terran’s skin. He knew the garox had entered the prisoner’s system when the vial changed color. Rogers’ remained motionless. 

His men milled around, out of hearing range, discussing the capture, the punishment of the prisoners, the wilderness around them. They speculated on the whereabouts of the third prisoner, often turning and gazing into the dark wilderness for someone lurking just out of sight. Ril listened to them, but his gaze remained on the prisoner. He also wondered where the birdman was, thinking the prisoner would not leave his friends under normal circumstances. However, Ril would have to wait until the terran came back to full consciousness. 

Buck felt a cessation of the burning heat, a slight easing of the pain. His mind seemed to be a kaleidoscope of images and sounds. He saw Hawk sprawled out on a ledge where he had fallen, and Buck cried in his shock and despair. “HAWK!” 

“Where is Hawk?” Ril asked, hearing the anguish in the prisoner’s voice. He knew that Rogers was referring to the birdman, even though he had not looked up the prisoner’s name. 

“Cliff . . . fell,” Buck replied with a moan. Then full memory returned and he shook his head to clear the horrifying realistic-seeming vision he had seen. That had been too vivid, he thought. But his unreality reaction seemed to serve a greater purpose. 

“Check over the cliff,” Ril ordered. 

Buck felt his mental capacities dragging back to normal. He hid his relief at Hawk’s well-being from Ril and the others, affecting a mask of grief and anguish. 

“Yessir, there appears to be a body down there,” one of the younger guards said. “Looks like his rope broke or came loose.” 

“Dead?” Ril asked. 

“Appears that way, sir,” the observer replied. “You want me to try to go down and check?” 

Buck felt a surge of panic, but it was Tigerman who actually made the next move. With various signs he indicated that he had gone down to check, almost slipping himself, as he did so.

Ril watched carefully, then he turned to his subordinate. “No, Macon.” He looked at Buck who was now sitting up and watching him. “But even a prisoner deserves a burial of some kind.” 

Again Buck felt a surge of fear and he searched his mind for something that would keep these men from investigating and finding out the truth. Then he remembered some history, especially that of various Indian tribes. “His people lay the bodies of their dead on slabs of rock in the heights.” He paused and sighed, hoping he sounded mournful. “So I suppose he is where he would want to be, anyway.” Buck paused again. “He was the last of his people,” he added sadly. 

Ril studied him for a moment and then nodded. He walked over to the cliff and looked down. Small binoculars in his jacket jabbed him uncomfortably and he pulled them out. The body came into sharp, close focus and Ril examined it. Something didn’t seem completely right, so he continued to examine it. Then it dawned on him. It was a dummy. But why? Then he snorted in self-derision. _So the birdman would be free, that’s why_. He knew little about bird people, but he did know of their loathing of confinement. Ril turned and looked curiously at the two prisoners. Somehow, he felt Rogers had figured out during the escape that he would be unable to make it off planet, but they had still set up the birdman’s death and the Rrilling had stayed when the terran became too debilitated to go on. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

But would the birdman be content to simply escape or would he be laying in ambush? Ril wasn’t sure, so he would take precautions on the way back to the mines. “Merrick, Griff, get ready to head back to the mines. You two will walk behind. Watch for animals. Somehow they smell sickness and between this prisoner’s illness and the birdman’s death, they could be congregating as we speak. Be ready to shoot to kill if you hear anything.” _That should give fair warning if the birdman is watching_. “Macon, you will walk alongside prisoner twenty forty-one when the trail allows it and I’ll accompany this one.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Ril held his hand out to Buck. “We need to get started, if you are ready. So we can get back before dark.” 

Buck took the outstretched hand. As Ril helped him up, he wondered if the guard suspected their subterfuge. Somehow, he thought Ril did. It was just the way he acted, but there was nothing to be done about it now. “I’m okay to go,” he said, hoping that whatever Ril did or whatever he said when they got back to the mines, Hawk would be well away by that time.


	23. Chapter 23

They fell into step, walking on the same path they had come the day before. “Hey, am I still under a gag order?” Buck asked. 

“Gag order?” Ril queried. 

“Yeah, am I still under that two week vow of silence that managed to stretch for somewhere around three months?” 

“Oh.” Ril sighed. “That’s up to Doctor Beros.” 

“But until then I can talk to my heart’s content, right?” 

Ril gazed at the prisoner, wondering if the garox dosage had been too high. “It’s that important to you?” Then he realized what a stupid question that was. “Sorry.”

Buck replied, “Free speech, freedom of worship, freedom to assemble, freedom to bear arms. Mom, the flag and apple pie.” He paused a couple of seconds. “All those things that were important when I was a kid. People weren’t just snatched up and stuffed in a hole.” He paused another moment. “Well, at least not most of the time.” 

Ril was struck by the passion of Rogers’ words even more than the words themselves, many of which he really couldn’t understand. “I suppose it’s all right at least until we get to the loading warehouse,” Ril said. Strangely, the prisoner was quiet for a few moments. “Where did you grow up?” he finally asked, curious. “I was led to believe that you are terran, but you haven’t talked about anything I know of Earth.” 

Buck smiled. He was feeling rather good right now, physically anyway. “Chicago, south side.” 

“Ah, New Chicago. Directorate headquarters.” 

Buck didn’t argue. 

“Never been there but I do a lot of reading.” 

“Have you read about the Bill of Rights?” Buck asked. 

“The what?” 

“A ground work of basic liberties.” He paused. “But never mind.” 

“You do take all that rather seriously, don’t you?” Ril asked.

“Damned right I do, but since it doesn’t apply here, let’s just skip it,” Buck replied, suddenly feeling depressed. 

Ril nodded. There was something that drew him to this man, something that made him stand out from the other prisoners. But then Rogers was the first prisoner to leave the mines alive, even if temporarily. They walked in silence, listening to the birds and other creatures of the mountains. Ril slowed down a bit, presumably for safety sake, but mainly because he was enjoying the view, the sounds, the scents of his surroundings. It was such a refreshing change from the mines. 

Rogers must have picked up on what he was feeling. “Why is this land not used? It’s really quite verdant, ideal for agriculture if nothing else.” 

“The company has rights to this continent and they don’t want anyone here, except those whom they allow. Anywhere but the spaceport is off limits.” 

“Afraid some farmer might find a couple of chunks of crillite and bite into their profits?” Buck asked sarcastically. 

Ril smiled. “Probably a great deal of truth to the statement, really.” 

“And the rest of the planet? Or is it one planetary continent?” 

“There’s another continent. It’s inhabited by the original colonists,” Ril said. 

“Overcrowded?” Buck asked. 

“Not yet, but hear it’s going to be within the next century.” 

Buck nodded. “Shame really. This area reminds me of some of the places I knew a long time ago on Earth.” He paused. “The mountains are a cross between the Smokies and the Tetons, the forested area reminds me of forests in the South. The valley, what I saw of it, looked almost like the prairies of the plain states.” 

“But Earth is mostly barren wasteland,” Ril protested. 

“I know, although there is more to Earth than the new cities on the North American continent. Not everything was blown to kingdom come,” Buck said. “But Earth was also once the most beautiful place in the galaxy.” His voice was wistful. 

Ril was puzzled. “You talk as though from personal experience.” 

Buck smiled wistfully. “Yeah.” 

As they passed through the mountains and began descending to the forested flat land Buck viewed it with new eyes. He saw the varieties of colors of green, at once similar to what he had known and yet slightly different. “Were there people here when the colonists came?” 

“Not that they could find. No ruins, records, nothing to indicate there was ever intelligent life on the planet,” Ril answered. “There were one or two types of animals that could reasonably be considered borderline sentient, but nothing of a civilization building type.” 

Buck nodded. He continued watching the scenery around him, hungrily eyeing the few large trees they passed by. An unreasonable urge to climb one of them and sit on a limb, allowing his legs to dangle freely came over him, but he suppressed it. In his mind’s eye, Buck saw gangly twelve-year-old boys at camp, swinging on a rope, yelling Tarzan yells and then letting go over a cool and inviting pond. _Cannonball!!_ He wanted to lie on his back on newly cut grass, watching puffy clouds float overhead. He wanted to watch ants climbing in and out of their hills with bits of leaves, bugs and whatever else they had found. Buck wanted to step in squishy mud, letting the cool muck ooze cover his feet. Knife sharp pangs of longing took his breath away and he knew it was because of where he was going. Back to the mines, back to hell. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Are you all right?” Ril asked. 

Buck shook his head to bring himself out of his longing reverie. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just don’t take to captivity very well. It even took the Directorate a while to get me to sign on.” 

“The Defense Directorate recruited you?” Ril ventured.

Buck nodded. 

Ril was even more confused. How did a member of the Earth Defense Directorate end up here? “Who are you?” Ril finally asked. 

“I am Odysseus, Robinson Crusoe and Rip Van Winkle all rolled up into one package,” Buck answered enigmatically.

“What?” Ril asked, confused. “Who are they?” 

“Literary characters from pre-holocaust Earth. Odysseus, by bad luck and the ire of the mythological gods, took twenty years to get back home to Ithaca after the Trojan War. Homer’s _Odyssey_. Robinson Crusoe was a character by Daniel Defoe who was shipwrecked for a number of years on a deserted island. Alone most of the time. Rip Van Winkle was a character who went into the mountains to hunt and ended up taking a twenty year nap.” Buck paused. “When he woke up, his whole world had changed.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“How does that relate to you?” Ril asked, intensely curious now.

“I went into space and took a five hundred year nap,” Buck said and gave his history in brief summation. 

“And you have come to this time to end up in a cave,” Ril murmured. Earlier in the walk he had motioned his men back a few paces, so their conversation had been semi-private. Now he was glad. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain. I truly am.”

“I know. By the way, the name’s Buck.” 

What Ril wanted to say now had to be totally private, something that would not get back to Beros. He pretended to stumble or be pushed, however the men behind him wanted to look at it. “Play along,” he whispered as he brushed against his prisoner. He grabbed Buck and jerked him toward him. “Don’t even think about making another run!” he shouted. “You hear me?” 

“How could I? You have the meds?” Buck retorted. 

“I’ll do what I can to ease it when we’re back, especially with Beros,” Ril whispered, all the while standing close and glaring at Buck. 

Buck, his face toward the men behind, simply nodded and acted as though he was backing down. “Thanks,” he murmured under his breath. 

“Just walk calmly and I won’t have to restrain you,” Ril said, his voice more normal, but still authoritative. 

Again, Buck nodded. They walked in silence for a few more minutes. They were about three or four more hours from the mine rail tracks. Each step brought him closer to an inevitable confrontation with his two main tormenters; the mines and Beros. Buck shook his head. He couldn’t spend his whole remaining time on the surface dwelling on that. 

As though reading his mind, Ril said, “Well, prisoner, now that you’re cooperating, we can talk some more. Why were you sentenced to Bosk?” 

Buck laughed mirthlessly. “My friend, Hawk….” Here Buck paused, looking sorrowful. “Uh, we kind of made life miserable for a big time bigot named Erik Kormand. He was the guy who started the ‘Human Rights Organization.’ His buddies reciprocated.” 

Ril gazed at Buck Rogers in astonishment. He had heard of the Human Rights Movement. Many of the guards proscribed to its philosophies. But Ril had never heard the name of the man who had started the organization. “How did you and the Rrilling become friends?” Ril asked.

“Tigerman?” Buck asked, pointing to the felinoid following with the other guards. 

Ril nodded. 

“Long story made short, his mistress, the Royal Draconian Princess Ardala wanted to make me her consort and Tigerman helped me get away one of the times she got me in her chambers. Recently he came afoul of the high mucky muck, Kane, and was sent here.” 

They walked in silence for a short while. “What brought you to a place like this?” Buck asked. 

“No family and excellent pay,” Ril answered shortly. 

“I know this is probably none of my business, but what in the hell are you going to do with all this money you are making here?” 

“I don’t know,” Ril said, his voice distant. 

“Not exactly the job you expected, right?”

Ril looked at him sharply. “No, it’s not.”

“And do they let you retire?”

Ril gazed at the prisoner and then sighed. “I don’t know.” He paused a beat. “You hear rumors.”

Buck shrugged. “Just appears like the type of operation that the bosses wouldn’t like folks to know about.”

They continued to talk, or watch the scenery until they were near the edge of the woods that bordered the rail line. As they walked into the clearing, a non-rail land vehicle met them. Heavily armed guards were waiting for in front of it. 

“Well, gang,” Buck said, trying to sound upbeat, but not succeeding. “Looks like the party is over.” 

================================== 

Wilma fumed as she and Major Peter Reeve flew away from Takrisian to another planet in the Mandras quadrant. No one seemed to know where Willis Garrott was. Oh, they knew who he was; there was no lack of knowledge about Garrott among the planetary businessmen. But he was either a genius in the world of shady business or a devil of immeasurable proportions. No one would tell them where he was. 

The more she found out about Garrott, though, the more she feared for Buck and Hawk. Her prior knowledge of Garrott’s activities had been a drop in a large morass of horrifyingly illicit and depraved activities. Apparently for the right price, Garrott would not only sell his own family, but blow up his home planet, too. And he not only bought and sold on the slave market, but he sold illicit drugs that carried an automatic death penalty on many planets for those caught with them. Gresh, sirox, aldaris, garox, wix and probably substances even she wasn’t aware of. 

This whole affair seemed to be getting deeper and deeper with an end nowhere in sight. 

“Colonel,” Reeve said from the seat next to her. He had been assigned to help her in the search for Hawk and Buck by the judiciary on Cronis. He was supposed to be a highly trained agent, especially at ferreting out criminals of the very worst sort. The Galactic Council had been very interested in Garrott for some time. 

_But_, Wilma thought bitterly, _he hasn’t been able to come up with anything more than air, either_. She didn’t even want to turn and look at him. She was afraid of what she might say. ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

“Colonel, I know how frustrated you are, but understand this, we aren’t going to have the same quick results you people had getting Erik Kormand. 

Wilma was flabbergasted. _Quick? Where do you get that idea, Major?_ she fumed. “I doubt you know anything of the sort, Major, but I appreciate the sentiments,” she said through gritted teeth. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Colonel,” he said softly. “Maybe I don’t exactly. However, I do know a little of the misery that devils like Garrott and Kormand can exact on people. If I can get only one or two of these scum out of commission in my lifetime, I’ll be happy. You and the _Searcher_ crew should be proud that you did so much damage to such an organization as Human Rights—and in such a short time.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“But that doesn’t help Buck and Hawk,” she shot back. 

“No, it doesn’t, but Wilma…. May I call you that?” he asked. She nodded. “We’ll find them.” He paused a moment. “We will find them. And I fully believe Captain Rogers and his friend, Hawk, will not have been sitting around idly.” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Wilma cried out, and she turned her head to hide tears that threatened. “Yes, if there was any way possible Buck and Hawk would escape. So why, after three months, has there been no word?” _Why?_ she repeated silently. It could only mean they were either dead or so badly injured that escape was impossible.__


	24. Chapter 24

“And these things take time,” Peter said. “Investigation or escape.” 

“It wouldn’t take this long for Buck,” she cried. 

“Although he is very wily and capable, Buck is human, Wilma. He is not some sort of deity,” her partner said soothingly. “Some forms of incarceration are harder to escape from than others.” 

Wilma sighed. He was right. “I am so worried about him, Peter. Both of them.” 

“I know.” He paused and they flew on for a while in silence. “You know, maybe we’re not on the right track here.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, hopeful for anything. 

“Okay, given Captain Rogers and Hawk’s propensity to escape, I don’t think Garrott would sell them to an individual. It would afford too easy an avenue of escape. Garrott would have instructions to sell them to a facility.” 

“Like a prison?” 

“Yes, a working prison. One that’s known for a low or zero escape record.” 

“Records?” 

“Partly, but I think if we go the same route Garrott did, we might be able to find out that way more quickly,” Peter ventured. 

“Try to sell someone?” Wilma asked, incredulous. 

“Something like that.” Peter thought of all his contacts, as well as those people who had stirred up trouble in the recent past. He could see possibilities as far as getting the word out, but there was only one person who came to mind right now for the bait in such a scheme, and he wasn’t sure he liked that idea. 

“I think this should be a multi-pronged effort,” Wilma said, beginning to feel a bit of Peter’s enthusiasm. “We keep looking for Garrott, while searching for the right prison.”

“Yes, and if we create the right scenario, no one will think it’s an operation to break up illegal penal practices,” Peter added. 

“Whoa, back up. Illegal penal practices?” 

“Sure. Do you think any prison that takes in non-convicted inmates is totally legitimate?” he asked. 

“Records can be faked.”

“True, but I don’t think that was done in this case,” Peter replied. “I may be wrong, though. I would guess that Captain Rogers and Hawk were taken to their new home within a couple of days. There would be no time to fake any kind of records.” He paused. “This whole thing was speedily conceived and executed. The advanced planning was well done. They almost botched it at the beginning, but otherwise it was well done.” 

“Yes, it was. Three months and there is not the slightest shred of evidence,” Wilma murmured. 

“That’s only because we haven’t asked the right questions or followed this trail in the right way.” 

“So how do we set up this fake sale?” Wilma asked, eager to do something that might have a chance of success. 

“I would do it through the same operation that I had set up to try and catch Garrott and his buddies in his drug sales, but there is too much chance that they suspect my agents,” Peter said. 

“So we set up a new operation?”

“Yes, using the same man we have deduced is Kormand’s man on Cronis.” 

“Mic Froligen?”

Peter gazed at her meaningfully. “How did you know?” 

“Hawk didn’t feel right about him.”

“We were going to arrest him the same time Erik Kormand was caught and not just because of his affiliation with the Human Rights group.”

“But you are using him to try and catch Garrott,” Wilma suggested. 

“And company. Yes.” Peter was silent for a moment. “There are no guarantees, Wilma, because we never know in this business, who is working for us and who is working six other deals on the side. But I think this may be a quicker solution than scratching around like we’re doing now.” 

“So how do we propose this to the Admiral?” she asked. 

“I don’t think the whole plan should be. I think we let him select a team to discreetly looking into prisons and their operations and records, while we set up the actual operation,” Peter said. “The fewer people who know about this, the better. I have a basic set of contacts that I trust implicitly to keep track of things for me. But I think you and I can set up the actual operation.”

“Major, I’ll happily do what you ask if it will get Buck and Hawk back.” 

“No guarantees, but I think this will work,” he said with a grin. 

“Great! Now who did you have in mind for bait?” she asked, feeling real hope for the first time in weeks. 

“You.”

============================

Buck and Tigerman stood before Dr. Beros, their wrists and ankles manacled. They had arrived at the mine’s cargo terminus by late afternoon and had been shackled there. Then they had waited, first in the warehouse, and then down in the mines. The trip down the elevator seemed interminable and Buck felt as though his very soul was being ripped from his body as he descended. They had continued to wait in a holding cell, barely large enough for the two of them to stand, much less sit. As best Buck could figure, they had waited through the mines’ sleep cycle. Without food or water. 

But Buck knew when twenty-four hours had passed. He began to feel the need just as before, subtly at first. He couldn’t believe that a parasite could be so insidious and so pervasive. Even as those thoughts crossed his mind, there were niggling doubts that he shoved to the far back reaches of his consciousness. There were some things he didn’t even want to consider. 

Finally, they were escorted into the administrator’s office. Beros glared at him in barely disguised fury. Buck just stood quietly, only wishing he could go to bed, or be alone, or something, anything but here waiting for Beros to explode. 

“So you thought you could escape, eh Rogers?” 

Buck couldn’t help it. He smiled softly. Beros knew his name. As though understanding his mistake, the warden reddened and stepped closer to him. Tigerman growled softly, balling fists that were held close together with thick chains. 

Beros turned to the guards in fierce anger. “Keep that animal at bay. If he so much as makes a move or sound, kill him!” 

Buck quickly gestured reassurance to Tigerman. Their eyes met briefly and the terran saw acceptance there. 

“I told you your friend’s life was forfeit if you did anything rash. It was and by your own hand, prisoner.” 

“But he’s free,” Buck said simply. His hands were trembling slightly, making his chains jingle. To his chagrin, Beros noticed. 

“Maybe, but you aren’t and neither is the Rrilling. What is most important, prisoner, is that you were my prisoner even when you thought you had gotten away.” Beros laughed. He studied Buck for a moment. “You really have no idea, do you? The guard said you wanted the medicine. You, a former Directorate official and you haven’t heard of garox.” 

Buck felt a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. The suspicions returned. “But I bet you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” he said sarcastically. The knot grew larger. 

Beros’ fist shot out and Buck suddenly doubled over, gasping from pain, only kept from falling by Tigerman, who had caught him as he stumbled back. Beros grabbed Buck’s shirt and jerked him upright, pulling him away from Tigerman and shoving him against a stone wall. Beros’ face was only a few inches from Buck’s, red with intense rage. Then he smiled, chuckled and said, “You will live the remainder of your pathetic life here, subsisting on garox until there is nothing left but desire for death alternating with desire for garox.” He paused for effect. “Did you think this so-called “medicine” would cure the parasitic illness only?” Beros paused again. “Well, it did, prisoner, you no longer have the parasite. In fact, you have resistance for it now.” 

The knot in Buck’s stomach was a boulder of despair, burying him like some kind of huge avalanche. What he had subconsciously suspected seemed to be a reality. 

“You have no resistance for the garox, though. Garox keeps humans here. It keeps them in line and unwavering in their devotion to duty.” Beros began laughing at his own joke, taunting, gloating laughter. 

He released Buck, who now totally understood the implications of what Beros was saying. “An addictive drug,” he said, his voice filled with the same horror that resided in his soul. 

“Oh, very addictive and there is no cure for garox addiction. You live, breathe and beg for the garox, prisoner. And eventually you will die, and your last breath will be to beg for more.” 

Buck stood slack-jawed in shock. He remembered all the lectures of his youth, grim and vivid reminders of the fate of a junkie. He watched his life fade and go black. He envisioned Wilma and felt his blood boil at what could have been. Now he knew what Ril had been asking him. 

Rage boiled beyond his capability to control it and he cried out. Before guards could react, Buck had lunged forward, unmindful of the shackles and grabbed Beros around the throat. As his fingers tried to squeeze the life out of his tormenter, though, Tigerman threw his arms over Buck’s head, and then pinned the terran’s arms to his side. He effectively broke Buck’s stranglehold on the administrator. The guards leapt forward, their stun guns ready, but Tigerman’s roar stopped them. Buck continued to struggle, but finally sagged against the Rrilling’s muscular chest, his strength and rage spent. Only blackest despair remained. 

Beros took a stun gun from one of the guards and approached the prisoners. “Thank you, prisoner. Let him go,” he ordered Tigerman. 

Tigerman growled softly, warningly. “This not for you.”

As Beros flushed at the felinoid’s words, Tigerman slowly released Buck, who slid down to his knees, his head bowed. 

“Maybe there is more intelligence up there than I thought,” Beros said to Tigerman. “But your loyalty is misplaced, prisoner.” He gazed down at Buck, who had not moved from his position on the floor. “Prisoner twelve-sixteen, you will work in the loading area, shackled and under strictest administration. The beast will work in the same area, since that is the only logical place for a creature of his talents.” He looked at the guards. “Take them away. Security code A.” 

The guard prodded Buck, who slowly rose to his feet. He glanced briefly at Beros, but there was no anger there. No rage was left, only raw despair. He felt empty, drained. He turned away and followed Tigerman out of the room. 

Beros would not get the bonus for breaking the birdman, but he would for Rogers. And perhaps he could make the case for getting some money off the birdman. He had broken him so badly that he tried to escape and killed himself on the rocks. Beros started laughing. Victory was sweet. Everlastingly sweet.


	25. Chapter 25

Hawk followed his captor’s directions, hoping for a chance of escape. The laser pistol never wavered, though, and he walked into a dim hut where another cowled figure waited. 

“So you found a bit of sand bait, eh?” the second figure said. 

A moon rose behind Hawk, large and orange, somewhat illuminating the hut. 

“Yes. Perhaps he just got here. Maybe on leave to Jarok?” the first one said hopefully, prodding Hawk with the laser pistol.

Hawk exploded into action, his elbow catching the one behind, a hand grabbing the one in front. Both laser pistols were soon in his possession and he was gazing intently at his two, now frightened former captors. The hoods hid much but Hawk surmised they were very young, perhaps adolescent. “I will not hurt you,” he said. The pair just stared silently at him. “Why did you ambush me?” Hawk asked. 

“You guards always have money,” one of the pair muttered. “Sometimes they even have crillite or brielenin. What are you going to do with us? Send us to the mines?” 

Hawk heard fear along with the bitterness. “No, I do not think I could do that to the worst of my enemies. A clean death would be much more desirable.” 

The two youths stared at him silently for a few moments; their eyes round with anxiety. Then, timorously, “Who are you?” 

Taking a chance, Hawk pulled off his helmet, allowing the pair to see his head feathers. “I have come from Bosk, but I am not a guard. I am Hawk.” 

Again, the boys said nothing for a brief time. It was as though they were trying to figure out a dilemma they would rather someone else have to deal with. “Well, that’s a guard’s uniform and the only other people on the east continent of Bosk are prisoners,” one of them finally said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 

“You are correct.” 

As the implications of Hawk’s simple statement dawned on them, the boys gasped. “But no one escapes the mines,” came the protest. 

“My friend conceived and executed the escape. He brought me and another prisoner out. We made it to the mountains to the west of the spaceport,” Hawk explained. 

“Where are the other two now?” 

“My friend was sick and could not finish the journey. The third prisoner stayed with him.” 

“Oh.” 

“I am trying to get help to rescue him and the others in the mine. Would you be able to help me?” 

“I don’t know, Hawk, but we’re willing to try.” 

The pair threw back their hoods and in the moonlight Hawk saw that they were indeed youths, barely more than fledglings. Their skin looked tough, almost like the bark of a tree, and their coloration was a grayish brown. Their hair was the color of light sand, their eyes intense green. Hawk assumed they were native to this planet. 

“Where do you come from?” one asked. “I am Tris, by the way.” 

“I come from Throm,” Hawk replied. 

“I am Willen,” the other youth said. “I have never heard of Throm.”

“I am pleased to meet you both. Throm is in another quadrant,” Hawk replied. With a smile, he handed one of the lasers back. “I would like to keep the other one, if I may. And is there a possibility of getting a cowled robe such as yours?” he asked. 

“That should be easy enough,” Willen said with a grin. “Come with us.”

Hawk hesitated and then mentally shrugged. He either had to trust these boys or blindly try to do this on his own. Somehow he didn’t think he could get a ship without someone’s help. Security was too tight. At the very least, he had a laser pistol for protection against treachery. Nodding, he put the helmet back on and followed them out. They slipped through the shadows of the alleyways and then to the sandy paths between even more primitive desert homes. The dwellings were rounded on the top, appearing to be made of the local equivalent of cement. Finally Hawk was led into a larger domed hut some distance from the spaceport. 

A larger cowled figure barred their way. “Why do you bring one of the dirt burrowers here? Are you so weak that you could not rob him in the city?” 

“He isn’t a guard,” Tris said quickly. “He’s an escaped prisoner.” 

The man suddenly reached out and cuffed the boy, sending him sprawling in the sand. Hawk grabbed the man’s arm in a steel hard grip. “The boy speaks truth. I escaped from the mines of Bosk.” 

Only the eyes were visible, but they bored into his. “No one escapes from Bosk.” 

“I did, with the aid of my comrade and a Rrilling,” Hawk said resolutely. 

The man asked the same question the boys did. 

“They stayed behind to cover my escape. I have to get back to my ship and bring rescue,” Hawk explained. He carefully let go of the desert man’s arm. 

The man slowly lowered his hand, deep green eyes all the while boring into Hawk’s. Finally he stepped back and beckoned for Hawk to enter. With a slight nod, Hawk did so. He found several laser pistols trained on him. 

“Take off the helmet. It is not polite in our society to wear head covering inside a dwelling,” the man said. He, too, had gray-brown skin, light hair and green eyes. Hawk took off his helmet and saw his hosts’ eyes widen in astonishment. 

“Is this true then that the mines are not the perfect prison?” There was a sense of satisfaction in his eyes. 

Hawk smiled enigmatically. “It depends on how you define ‘perfect’.” 

His host hesitated a moment and then chuckled. “I see your point.” 

“I suppose the answer would be no in either case,” Hawk said. It had been obvious in the mines that the guards were all human, or near enough human to pass; the desert dweller’s reaction confirmed it. “I need the means to get back to my ship and organize rescue for my two comrades,” Hawk added. “One of them needs medical attention.” 

“He’ll be dead by the time you return. If he is sick now, they’ll continue to work him until he dies.” 

“He is fine as long as he has the medication. It is not a cure for his affliction, though, and I am hoping that the doctor on the Searcher will be able to affect a cure,” Hawk explained.

The man gazed at him for a moment. “Come, sit down. Have refreshment,” he said, pointing to cushions that lined the floor along one wall. A large, tapestry-like rug lay on the floor in front of them, covering the sand floor. Hawk complied and the man sat next to him. At a nod from his host, all laser pistols disappeared. Willen brought cups and a skin bag and poured an amber-colored liquid into one of the cups. Willen handed it to Hawk. 

“Share with me that which gives life, that which gives hope,” the desert man intoned. He poured some of the liquid into the other cup, lifted it to a point just in front of his eyes and then drank it. 

Hawk followed the same procedure. The drink was slightly alcoholic, but mostly it was mellow, slipping coolly down his throat. 

“I am Dreesis,” the man said after he had drained the cup and handed it to Willen. The young man proceeded to pour the amber liquid for each of the rest of the occupants of the dwelling. 

“I am Hawk.”

“Please accept our hospitality and our help in your quest. Can I assume your comrade is human?” 

Puzzled, Hawk nodded. “How did you know?” 

“What your friend bears is not sickness unless dependency is considered a sickness.” 

Hawk remembered Beros saying that only humans got the ‘sickness’ and then he remembered the alarm he had felt when Buck had been no longer able to travel. Ugly truth dawned.

“From our association with the guards, we have learned that a substance that was originally used on Bosk to control an illness among human prisoners is in reality, a very addictive drug. It has become an effective way to control the human population of the prisons that the Arator Company runs. They need very little excuse to use it. The only reason they didn’t try to use it on you is because it seems to be peculiar to humans.” 

Hawk was stricken, then angry. He thought about Buck’s behavior and it fit perfectly with what he knew about addictive behaviors. “Nevertheless, I must still rescue him and the rest of my colleagues. No sentient being should live as I have lived recently.” 

“But why would you be friends with members of the same race that put you in the mines? The same race that seems only concerned with greed, avarice and cruelty?” Dreesis asked. 

“The same race that killed my people?” Hawk paused. Humans were strange creatures. He wished he could totally understand them. “But there are others, my friend included, who are not that way. I have found that truth in the past year and a half of my association with them.” 

One of the females brought a tray of food and placed it in front of him, beckoning him in sign to eat. Hawk reached forward, taking what appeared to be a bread roll with some kind of spread inside. He wasn’t sure what it was, but after almost two days without any kind of substantial food, he was not going to be overly cautious. As long as it didn’t make him sick. Savoring the first nibbled bite, he felt that it was safe and began to more avidly consume the rest of the roll while Dreesis continued talking. Everyone else reached over and selected something off the tray. 

“That may be so, but I have found them to be much the same as the Draconians, may they all rot in the depths of Keniset.” Then Dreesis nodded and then pondered for a moment. “Perhaps you are right about humans. You are certainly right about the mines, especially those on Bosk. I would not wish an enemy a fate such as that.” 

“Can you help me?” 

“We can probably get you close enough to steal a ship, but we cannot fly it.” 

“I am a capable starfighter pilot,” Hawk said.

“We will give you garb such as ours, so you can pass along the streets more freely. Many of our people work in the spaceport,” Dreesis said. 

“I can pay you for your help,” Hawk offered. 

Dreesis waved his hand dismissively. “We help each other,” he said. “Before this became a terminus for the Arator Company mines, Draconian vassals, the Trilorians, stripped our planet of many of its resources and left us destitute.” 

“Apparently someone has figured a way to smuggle some of the crillite crystals, despite precautions,” Hawk said, pulling out one of the two crystals he had taken. “I found this when the cargo ship I stowed away on crash landed.” 

Dreesis took the rough crystal and examined it. The light from one of the two candles shone on the surface of the gem and reflected golden sparkles on the rounded ceiling of the dwelling. “Ah, a nice one, too,” Dreesis said, admiring the stone. “But you keep it for now. You might need it after you steal a ship.” He paused. “So that was your ship we heard about in the desert. A few of my relatives were sent out to help salvage.” 

“Yes,” Hawk admitted. 

“A good pilot, indeed, to engineer such an authentic looking malfunction.” 

“Thank you. I did not wish there to be any link between my escape and this ship,” Hawk explained.

“You succeeded, because I have heard of no such rumor,” Dreesis replied. 

Hawk tried hard to stifle it, but a yawn escaped anyway. 

“You are tired. Please accept the hospitality of a good night’s sleep in our home. We will get clothing for you while you are resting.” 

Hawk nodded, realizing that he would not be able to stay awake, even if he was distrustful of this group of people, which he wasn’t. Dreesis pointed out a pallet in a curtained off section of the dwelling. Hawk took off his jacket and boots and lay down. He fell asleep quickly.

The next morning Hawk awoke refreshed in a sun-lightened room and wondered how long he had slept. A neatly folded bundle of clothes lay near him and he quickly made the change out of his guard’s uniform. While he still longed for his own clothing of rank, Hawk felt one step further away from the mines of Bosk. 

A young face peeked around the partition. Tris. “Good morning,” Hawk said amiably. 

“The morning is indeed good,” Tris replied with a smile. “Come, there is breakfast ready.” 

Hawk followed and found Willen and Dreesis and the female desert dweller sitting on the decorative rug, cross-legged around a type of brazier. He sat down in the place Dreesis indicated. The female offered him a bowl of savory smelling type of porridge. He smiled. “Thank you.” 

Dreesis intoned something that sounded like a prayer of sorts and then he began to eat. Everyone followed suit. 

Hawk took a bite and found the flavor to be slightly nut-like, with a touch of sweetness. It was also the best meal he had eaten since his last meal on _Searcher_. He said as much to his hosts. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

It was then that Dreesis began asking questions, first about his planet of origin, then about Bosk and how he got there. Hawk, in turn, asked about the planet he was now on. 

“This is Grallion and it is mostly desert with a more temperate climate near the poles. During the hotter months most of us migrate south toward the Heelion Sea,” Dreesis explained. “We have done this for centuries, except during the Trilorian occupation. It was then that we had to live underground.” He paused. “We detested it. As harsh as our planet is, our sun, the land is life and to be shut underground is an abhorrent thing.”

“I understand perfectly,” Hawk said softly. 

For a moment, no one said a thing. Only the bubbling porridge in the pot and a slight wind from outside broke the silence. 

“It is hard to understand those who seem to be so arrogant and biased,” Dreesis finally said. “Even now, after they have been gone for the past twenty years, it is hard for me to think of Trilorians with anything but anger.” 

Hawk thought of his own people, of Koori and of his hatred toward humans, and he nodded. “I believe our thoughts and emotions are similar.” He smiled softly. “But as hard as it has been, I am finding that there are those of all races with redeeming qualities. And there is a diversity among humans as there is among my own people.” 

Dreesis nodded. “Hawk, stealing a ship will not be a one day event. The moment has to be right or your ship will be either caught as you leave the planet or blasted by their defensive weaponry.”


	26. Chapter 26

Forerunners of Bosk

Chapter Twenty-six

Hawk pondered Dreesis’ statement for a few seconds before answering. “I assumed as much.” Again, he pondered. “Which ships are the least heavily guarded?” 

“Those taking workers to pleasure planets.” 

“Passenger shuttles?” 

“Yes,” Dreesis replied. 

“I have a uniform. Would it be possible to simply be a guard on leave?” Hawk asked. 

“The guards are watched closely, too.” 

“I should think with careful timing I could take a real guard’s place.” 

“Perhaps, but how would you proceed when you reach Loris or Zanon?” Dreesis asked. 

Hawk thought some more. “How are these pleasure ships piloted? Androids?” 

“No, usually the pilots are older, retired cargo ship operators,” Dreesis replied. 

“Then I hijack a pleasure shuttle.” 

“There is usually a co-pilot,” Dreesis pointed out. 

Hawk frowned. “I would think a disillusioned pilot may not be as hard to persuade as one might think,” Hawk said thoughtfully. 

“Perhaps that is the best way. I do know that cargo ships are very carefully guarded as they contain partially prepared gem stones,” Dreesis said. 

“Does Grallion get shipments from planets other than Bosk?” Hawk asked. 

“Yes, shipments come from several planets in this and the next quadrant. The various gems and ores are sorted and then sent on to the buyers in other quadrants, usually brokerage house for gems and precious ores,” Dreesis explained. “Also supplies for the prison.”

Hawk realized just how fortunate he had been to not be caught. “I believe you are right. Stealing a passenger shuttle is the best way. Unless some better opportunity comes along.”

“I think today we will work near the passenger terminal,” Dreesis said with a smile. 

“Then you do not have permanent employment?” 

“No, most of us report in the mornings and if we are picked, we work; if we aren’t, we don’t,” Dreesis said matter-of-factly.

Hawk, Dreesis, Willen and Tris walked sandy paths to the spaceport, their hoods low over their faces to protect them from winds that were already kicking up. They were selected for the work pool and as he worked, Hawk watched. He saw and heard guards from Bosk. They were still talking about the ‘great escape.’ It didn’t matter to them that the administrator considered the attempt to be a failure; it had happened and if it happened once, it could happen again. 

He watched loading and launch procedures, he watched the pilots, who indeed, did seem to be older men for the most part. Plans began forming in his head. The second day, Hawk was sure he could successfully hijack a shuttle and that night, he outlined his plan to Dreesis. 

“Pilots are carefully identified before every flight,” the desert dweller pointed out. “And they are rotated often, so you might not get the chance to learn the habits of your selected pilot.” 

“But the identification process is performed only at the terminal, and that is just cursorily done, depending simply on a show of the identification card. There did not seem to be any checks done on board the shuttle. It should not be a difficult thing to make a switch with the pilot before the launch,” Hawk said.

“Especially if there is a diversion.” Dreesis smiled. “There is still risk, but I think your idea will succeed.” 

“Yes, I think that perhaps one more day to check out the final details will be enough,” Hawk said.

=========================

Buck came to awareness staring at a canister in his still manacled hands. 

“Get moving, prisoner,” a guard growled, prodding him with an un-activated stun stick. 

He didn’t remember getting here; didn’t remember anything beyond Beros’ revelation. But here he was in the loading area, with a canister filled with crillite in his hands. In the cargo area, in the mines on Bosk, on garox. He sucked in a tremulous breath and followed the prisoner in front of him. _What happened? How long has it been since Beros’ office?_ Buck wondered. He played back the harsh revelation and pondered it as he loaded the canister into a transport bin that would be sent up the cargo elevator. What had Beros said? No cure for the addiction? That couldn’t be right! Buck had no doubt it would be tough and that it would take time, but no cure at all? That was hard to believe. This was the twenty-fifth century, for crying out loud! __

_ __ _

_ __ _

At a direction from a guard, Buck shuffled back to the line of canisters and picked up another. A soft grunt to his left caused him to look up, where he saw Tigerman gazing at him. He nodded to the felinoid and then continued with the task at hand. Buck noticed that Tigerman was shackled as well. Made working a real pain, he thought, but there was nothing to be done about it. Not now, anyway. 

This continued for some time until the guards prodded he and Tigerman out of line and toward the cellblock. At one only slightly bigger cell than what he had lived in before, Buck was ordered in. To his surprise, Tigerman followed. The terran was indignant, but his partner laid a hand on his arm and shook his head slightly. Buck took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Their cell seemed to be a little distance away from the rest of the inhabitants of the cellblock, so perhaps he could get an explanation from Tigerman later. A privileged brought two bowls and a drink of water and shoved them under the bars. Tigerman picked the bowls up and handed one to Buck. It was the same stuff he had eaten from almost the first day here, but this meal didn’t even have any bread with it. He glanced at Tigerman and saw him fishing out the few chunks of vegetables with his fingers. Buck drank some of the juice before doing the same thing. 

Too soon the meal was done and Buck leaned back against the cold stone wall. Tigerman tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to lie down. Buck suspected that for however long he had been out of it, Tigerman had let him use the bench bed. He shook his head and got up, inviting the Rrilling to have bed privileges this night. Tigerman looked at him steadily for a moment and then grinned toothily at him. He promptly lay down, arranging his manacles to allow for a semi-comfortable position, and then quickly went to sleep. Buck laid his head against the wall and tried to think of something a bit optimistic about this whole situation. There wasn’t much. But at least Hawk had escaped and Buck knew that eventually his friend would bring help. Surely Dr. Goodfellow would be able to find something to break him out of this garox addiction. The old doctor had reversed the satyr effect. 

A slight noise caused him to look up. In the shadows Buck saw Ril. The guard smiled softly, nodded and then walked off. Buck wondered about Ril, wondered how someone who obviously cared about the prisoners could continue to work in a place like this. With a slight shrug, Buck quit worrying about it. He was tired. With a sigh, he tried to get comfortable, but the manacles, the hard floor and the cold kept him from fully sleeping. He dozed fitfully, often waking, shivering, from dreams where garox took on demonic form. One time when he awoke, he found a blanket at his feet and he looked at Tigerman, who still slept soundly, his soft snores occasionally punctuated by deep sighing breaths. There was a blanket at the foot of his bench and Buck wondered who their mysterious benefactor might be. _Ril?_ Whoever it was, Buck was grateful. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

He got up, feeling stiff and sore and unfolded the blanket, trying to keep the clinking of his chains to a minimum. He covered Tigerman and then turned back to his own spot in the cell. A hand stopped him and he turned back to see Tigerman regarding him steadily. 

“Someone left us some blankets,” he whispered. 

Tigerman nodded. “You are awake,” he murmured. 

“Yeah, floor’s cold,” Buck said with a slight grin. 

“No, awake,” Tigerman said, this time reaching out and touching Buck on the forehead with one finger. 

Understanding, Buck sighed and said, “How long?”

Tigerman held up two fingers. 

Buck grimaced. “Two days?” He sighed. “Thanks for taking care of me, pal. I owe you another one.” 

Tigerman nodded, grinned and then lay back down, pulling the blanket around him. Soon he was softly snoring once more. 

Buck settled himself on the floor, again trying to get as comfortable as possible. He drew the blanket around his body. Soon, he too, was dozing off, his exhaustion overcoming his discomfort. 

=================================

Kane heard the report from his androids and smiled. Her Royal Highness was having no success. As with every other venture she had undertaken of late, this one was also showing signs of failure. Soon she would be coming back, defeated by the mazelike nuances of interstellar slave business and then she would be wed to him. 

Kane smiled. Ah, and this would not be like what they had planned for Buck Rogers’ wedding. No collar, no consort status. Draco, himself, had ordered this wedding. He, Kane, once of Earth, would be second only to Emperor Draco in power. 

Reading the report again, Kane noted that Ardala was in the Krexis quadrant. Good, she should get no leads there. Small quadrant, not too large a slave terminus. Smiling again, Kane gazed at the wedding outfit hanging in his closet. Marriage into the royal family. It was something for which he had been dreaming for a long time. After an appropriate time, he would begin the process of ascension into the emperorship. After he was emperor, he would conquer Earth. Then he would deal with Huer, Deering and yes—Buck Rogers.

=============================

Ril tried to remember what Rogers had taught him. He had the dribbling down pretty good, he could make the ‘basket’ shots into the goals he had installed on each end of the recreation room, based on what the prisoner had told him, but he had trouble with the competition part. Ril simply couldn’t remember the blocking and passing rules and consequently couldn’t give the information to his fellow guards. The games ended up as free-for-alls that frustrated everyone. 

Finally Ril went to see the doctor. “Is there any way to get prisoner twelve-sixteen out of cargo and in an assignment that would allow him to teach us this game?” 

The doctor looked in his records and then shook his head. “There is no way I can talk the administrator to agree to change the assignment. Not for this one. I’m surprised he didn’t outright kill him when he was brought back.” 

Ril lowered his voice. “Dr. Burrows, any medical reason?” He knew he was taking a chance, but he had come to trust the doctor. Ril believed that the doctor even felt the same way he did on many of the things that went on in the mines. 

The doctor studied Ril for a moment, and then he nodded. “I’ll see.” 

“Thanks, the guys really want something that will take their minds away from the job occasionally, and I think they would like this game. Someone even suggested having matches with prisoners, although I think a blind Vegan pelatine would have a better chance of negotiating the mines than that happening. But we need something, Doctor.” Ril lowered his voice even lower. “Did you know that some of the men even bet on the three prisoners to make good on their escape? They are unhappy, Doctor. If I didn’t half believe the rumors about what happens to those who quit, I would have been out of here a year ago.” 

Burrows remembered something else he had been told just that morning. At the time he had been told, it had irritated him greatly. An occurrence like that was not something to be ignored. “It was my understanding that the prisoner in question seemed to have suffered some sort of nervous breakdown.” 

“Or something like that, but last night, he acknowledged me and seemed very much aware of his surroundings,” Ril said. 

“That’s good,” the doctor said. Perhaps this report he had received would be just the excuse he needed to help Ril and the other guards. And the prisoner, as well. He sighed.It was like walking a tightrope, feeling compassion for anyone in a place like this, and yet, that was what he was trained to do. Care for people. He sighed again. “You know, it’s so much easier when you can shut out what’s going on around you. Safer for your peace of mind.” 

“You talking about the prisoner or us, Doctor?” Ril asked. 

Burrows just sighed again, but didn’t answer. 

Ril smiled softly, but there was no humor there. “I know what you are talking about. But we can’t shut things out forever.” 

“I know,” Burrows said softly. He had been in the mines only slightly longer than the guard had been. After Ril Mentua left, Burrows worked on a strategy to get twelve-sixteen in his office. Just calling him in, regardless of the fact that the man had suffered a temporary mental breakdown of sorts, might still be suspect, but it was almost time for prison board inspections. The mandated inspections were company policy, but mostly they were considered frills and fluff to make the reports look good for the company big shots, local authorities and the quadrant prison officials. He made the inspections, made recommendations and was generally ignored. 

Burrows typed the information into his computer and found that it was, indeed, time for the inspections. He would begin early the next morning. It would take several days, but eventually he would see the prisoner that so interested Ril. In so doing, maybe he would be able to avert a disaster that the doctor felt had been brewing for the past few years. 

On the second day, when the prisoners in the loading bay were just finishing their shifts and being escorted to their dinner and cells, Burrows showed up for his inspection. He knew he would have to come back to finish the next day, but he wanted to see if what Ril had told him was accurate. Burrows saw twelve-sixteen given his dose, escorted to a cell, his manacles rattling mournfully. Then to his astonishment, another prisoner was escorted in with him. The cell had only one bench and only a tiny bit more space than a normal cell. A privileged brought their dinner, a bowl of soup for each man, shoving it under the bars. 

Burrows was appalled, but he said nothing. He took notes for his report, and then gazed at the two prisoners again. Obviously, the Rrilling was the one who escaped with twelve-sixteen. The human was watching him, ignoring the pitiful repast in his hands. Nodding, Burrows took a few more notes and then left. He felt he had enough to affect the terran’s release from this part of the mine. At the very least, he could take care of the atrocity of two men in a cell that was only five and a half feet by seven feet. 

He continued through the mine, taking notes, asking a few questions and then he went back to his office. Burrows could not help but wonder if there was more to the terran and Rrilling’s punishments than the foiled escape attempt. He had noticed the prolonged probationary restrictions and was taken aback. _Well over three months and still on restrictions?_ And this was decided before the attempted escape. Burrows dug some more through the notes, totally forgetting his own dinner, forgetting his fatigue.__


	27. Chapter 27

The next morning two guards delivered twelve-sixteen to his office. The man stood quietly, manacled and flanked by the guards. “You can wait outside,” Dr. Burrows told them. 

“At least one guard has to be within visual contact of the prisoner at all times, Doctor,” one of the guards stated. “The administrator’s orders.” 

Irritation flared. “And this is doctor’s orders, gentlemen.” He paused. “Wait outside! The man is not going anywhere.” He pointed to the manacles. “There is only one way out of my office. You wait outside, lasers drawn, if need be,” he ordered. The two men hesitated. “I have authority in this matter,” Burrows added, his irritation growing. “And I have the right to conduct an exam in private.” Still they hesitated. His patience was growing thin. “And I am the only person in these mines who can supercede the orders of the administrator. Now get out!” 

They got. 

Burrows studied the prisoner a moment before pointing to the exam bed. 

“Might be a bit difficult with the manacles, Doc.” 

Burrows eyed him carefully before answering. “You load canisters all day in those things, surely a short hop on an exam table….” 

The prisoner smiled and shuffled to the table. “Okay, Doc.” With only slight difficulty he got up on the table. “Actually, it’s good to take a load off for a bit.” He paused a beat. “What am I in here for?” 

Burrows smiled softly. “Just what I told the guards . . . an exam. I didn’t like what I saw down in your cellblock.” 

Buck snorted. “Only what I would expect.” 

“Twenty-four hour confinement in chains, sharing a cell only big enough for one prisoner, with another one. Inadequate food.” 

“Oh, but I get the garox regularly,” Buck retorted, his voice bitter.  
“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me, too.” 

Burrows examined twelve-sixteen’s ankles and wrists and found them abraded, and in spots, with open wounds. He took a blood sample but was sure he knew what the results would be. “Have you had your dose yet?” 

“No.” 

Burrows nodded and pulled a vial of garox out of his cabinet. 

“You can’t imagine how much I loathe letting you do this,” Buck said. 

Burrows paused and gazed meaningfully at the prisoner. “You can’t imagine how much I detest having to do it.” 

Buck studied the doctor intently before saying anything. “I believe you,” he replied, his voice subdued. 

Burrows gave twelve-sixteen his dosage and then studied the results of the blood test. “I am pulling you off full-time cargo and putting you on maintenance. I am also putting you in a cell of your own.” 

“Maintenance?” Buck looked puzzled. “What for?” 

“I need to keep a closer eye on you. Your blood count is low, you are deficient in several important minerals, among other things, and you have infected wounds.” 

“I don’t get it,” Buck said suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry about it. Your change in assignment will benefit the morale of more than yourself.” 

Buck decided not to question his bettering fortune and shrugged. If he was being set up for some kind of fall, he would still enjoy this brief respite while he had it. “Whatever. But what about Tigerman?” 

“Tigerman?” the doctor asked. “Or do you mean your cell mate, the Rrilling?” 

“Yes.” 

“I am recommending a more nutritious meal and I’ll examine him, too.” 

“But what if the administration likes to see its enemies die slowly?” Buck asked sarcastically. 

“Beros is already getting that with the garox inflicted prisoners,” Burrows said bluntly. “I don’t think he is as interested in the non-humans like the Rrilling.” 

“Maybe, but I think he likes his sadism in big chunks.”

Burrows blinked in astonishment, then he looked a bit anxious. Finally with a hint of a smile, he said softly. “I don’t have vid cams in here, but I think you’d be better off keeping such thoughts to yourself, prisoner.” 

“I am Captain Buck Rogers, and how the hell more trouble could I be in?” he asked indignantly, holding his shackled hands up for emphasis. “I have no future, the present stinks. So if I irritate anyone here, I’m dead. Is that such a bad deal?” 

Burrows sighed. “I suppose not,” he admitted. “But you seem more fighter than quitter, even under these circumstances.” 

“I don’t know. I kind of blew my gasket there for a couple of days,” Buck replied. He was beginning to feel somewhat comfortable with the doctor, much as he did around Ril. Then he wondered if it was Ril who not only gave him and Tigerman the blankets but put a bug in the doctor’s ear.

“I am Doctor Cole Burrows, by the way,” the doctor said, breaking Buck’s reverie. “I don’t know if I can do anything about the restraints other than to treat the abrasions, but I can help with the other. I have a bit of say in certain matters.” 

“Until you’re replaced,” Buck said meaningfully. “Be careful, Doc.”

Burrows just nodded. 

The next day, Buck was in the recreation room, cleaning. He gazed at the privileged, who was instructing him. “I go through four years of college for this?” he muttered, holding the stale-smelling mop at arm’s length. 

The privileged, the one that had introduced himself to Buck so long ago, answered, “Worse than loading cargo canisters?” 

“I see your point,” Buck admitted. 

Beros came by during one of his cleaning sessions and watched. 

Buck made sure he put on a hangdog, disgruntled act, knowing it would please the administrator. The manacles made it quite easy to give such a performance. Realistically, Buck knew that if the director thought he was more discomfited than usual, Beros mostly likely wouldn’t be using his time trying to make life even more miserable for him. 

Buck wondered why the administrator didn’t just kill him outright. It seemed to him that Beros had seriously wanted to when he had been recaptured, but had restrained himself. He wondered if there was more to his kidnapping than a simple snatch and slam-dunk into a prison by one of Erik Kormand’s flunkies. Could Beros be getting some kind of stipend for his continued existence? 

Buck realistically knew that he didn’t have to act his down-and-out demeanor for the administrator that much. The border between optimism and depression was extremely thin now. And it didn’t help that Beros brought him into his office periodically to gloat over him. There were times when Buck had caught himself contemplating suicide, something that would have been abhorrent to him before his time on Bosk. 

========================= 

Despite Hawk’s optimistic assumptions, there were no opportunities to get aboard an outbound pleasure ship for almost two weeks. None of the desert dwellers were hired, security was tightened and Hawk found himself watching over his shoulder for Arator guardsmen. 

Finally, restrictions were lifted and the desert dwellers were again hired, though in lesser quantities, mainly to load the cargo that had stocked up during the curtailing of outbound flights. The workers were watched constantly. 

“Rumor says that the hiatus was because there was a smuggling operation in crilite from Bosk,” Dreesis said during dinner one night. 

“That does not help my situation,” Hawk replied. “If anything, they are more vigilant. I do not know if my friends can last for much longer,” Hawk said tersely. 

“If they are as resourceful as you are, they will be dealing with their lot patiently as well,” Dreesis said. 

Hawk took a deep breath. “Yes, I am sure you are right.” But such thoughts did not give him much comfort. “Perhaps the next best way would be to pose as a guard on a pleasure trip and simply hijack the shuttle.” 

“It entails much more risk,” Dreesis said. 

“Mainly for you. I noticed that there are less guards being allowed off-planet pleasure furloughs recently. The shuttles appear to have fewer passengers.” 

“I heard the rumor of something happening on Bosk. I have heard alternately that there is insurrection there, the smuggling, or that the government on the other hemisphere is doing something. Perhaps a combination of several things.” 

“Oh?” Hawk felt the prickling of alarm.

“I also heard a rumor that the guards were demanding more privileges, but that has happened before without these results,” Dreesis added. “It has been much harder to get information.”

“These are all the more reasons to do something soon,” Hawk said determinedly. 

“Perhaps we will find out more if we also find work in some of the eating and drinking establishments that the guards and pilots frequent,” Dreesis’ mate, Loris, suggested. 

Hawk nodded. 

So for several days and nights, the group haunted not only the spaceport workstations, but also the inner town businesses. Finally, Hawk felt he could wait no more. “I have heard of a new group of pilots for the shuttles. I will go into the town tonight in my guard uniform. I will check the new pilots. I will substitute myself for the one that seems closest to my size and build.” 

“We will keep watch, wherever you go,” Dreesis said. “When you have chosen, we will guard the human until after you have taken off.” 

“You will keep watch over him, but do not let him see any of you,” Hawk cautioned. “I would not want there to be recriminations against your people.” 

That night Hawk walked into the tavern most popular with the pilots, as well as the guards. It was one where he had worked with Dreesis, washing dishes the day before. None of the servers recognized him in his Bosk guard’s uniform and they were eager to wait on him. The two weeks of slow business had hurt all of the local residents. He spotted several men possessing about his same general build but none were pilots. He sat nursing a small drink while he waited for more customers to arrive. The night was still early. Several pilots walked in and Hawk studied them carefully, walking to a table near where they were sitting so he could listen to their conversation. Another walked in, a pilot of the same general build as his and sat alone. After a while, when the man did not join his fellow pilots, Hawk ordered a drink to be taken to the lone pilot. When the human looked over at him, Hawk smiled and raised his own glass, one that was still virtually untouched. 

The pilot smiled and acknowledged the gift. Within a few minutes the man had finished his drink and Hawk paid for another, having the waitress extend an invitation for the pilot to join him. As Hawk hoped, the pilot was quick to do so. 

“What’s the occasion, friend?” the human asked, taking a swallow of Hawk’s gift. 

“My birthday and you looked like good company,” Hawk replied, affecting a smile he didn’t feel.

“For your birthday, I’ll be excellent company,” the pilot said. He took another swallow from his glass. “Just the thought of getting away from this hot, dry hell-hole of a planet is enough to make me happy, too.” 

And for the free drinks, as well, Hawk thought wryly to himself. He noted that the human was quickly mellowing. 

“Where’d you come from? I don’t recognize you. From Bosk?” 

“Yes,” Hawk said truthfully. 

“They tell me there’s problems in the mines. That true?” the human asked, leaning forward conspiratorially. 

“Nothing that cannot be handled,” Hawk replied noncommittally.  
“What happened?” 

Hawk smiled inwardly. This one was a blatantly curious human. He decided to take a chance. “Several prisoners escaped.” 

The man’s eyes widened. “I had heard such rumors, but didn’t know if there was any truth to them.” 

“Yes, there is. But two of them were recaptured. The third died.” Hawk paused for effect. “It caused some unrest among prisoners and guards.” 

“Some? Considering that no one has ever escaped from the mines, successfully or not, I can imagine that would cause a stir.” He took another swallow of this drink. “And when you consider the eastern continent is amending their constitution to allow them to more easily join the Galactic Council….” The pilot laughed. “I hear the company is in a real uproar about that.” 

Hawk just nodded, but that last revelation piqued his interest. “They do not tell us anything. What is going on—this amendment?” 

“Hear that the eastern continent, Sirilan, is getting a bit crowded. They have their eye on settling the western continent, but up to now the contract with the company has kept anyone off the land.” 

“But the contract is up for renewal,” Hawk guessed. 

The pilot chuckled. “For someone who’s been kept in the dark, you are pretty sharp. Yes, and the easterners are in the process of amending their constitution to allow right of settlement.” 

Hawk looked puzzled. “You mean anyone who wants to settle the land?” 

“Anyone who improves it.”


	28. Chapter 28

“Thank you for the information, friend,” Hawk said. “I wonder what the company will do then.” 

“I suppose they will build complexes for their own big shot employees,” the pilot said in a low voice. 

“It is getting too crowded here,” Hawk said. “Shall we find a better bar?” 

“Of course, my friend, of course.” 

Hawk led the way out into the dimly lit street and down one block They entered another garishly lit establishment, where they sat down and ordered drinks. By this time the human was becoming rather inebriated and he revealed many things to Hawk about his job shuttling cargo for the Arator Company. That job had ended when he had crash-landed on the desert planet. Hawk suspected that the human had been too drunk to fly. He bought the man another drink and then suggested that they try their hand in a gambling establishment. 

“No, no. Want to save my money for a real gambling hall, like the one on Taladon,” the human, whose name was Telor, said. 

“Ah, but in order to do that, you must be clear-headed,” Hawk said. “Let us leave this smoky place and walk to your room at the guest house.” 

Telor frowned for a moment. “I have always been able to hold my liquor,” he stated tersely, but then he smiled. “But a bit of sleep before reporting to the shuttle bay would not hurt. The idiots have had me on probation ever since that crash and it wouldn’t do to smell like a Cloreian Wine factory on my first day back in space.” He clapped Hawk on the back. “You’re a good friend.” 

“Thank you,” Hawk said as he helped Telor out of the bar and to the street. He was thoroughly disgusted at the friendship display he had to make. He was disgusted with the human’s inebriation as well and would be glad to leave this man behind. They walked past several gaudily decorated establishments. Hawk guided his ‘friend’ into a more dimly lit roadway and toward the outskirts of the town. They had gone a quarter of a mile before Telor realized they were not going toward his guest room. 

“Hey, this isn’t the way!” 

“No? You told me it was,” Hawk said in mock concern. 

“It’s that way,” Telor said, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Are you sure?” Hawk asked, turning a corner to a still darker path.

“Nah, not this….” 

Hawk used the butt of his laser on the back of Telor’s head. The human sank to the ground without a sound. Several figures materialized out of the darkness and helped Hawk carry the unconscious man further from the center of town. There Hawk changed into Telor’s uniform, took his identification, money and whatever else he felt he would need for his impersonation. The laser pistol was traded for a small palm sized stun device. The helmet was strapped on and with that Hawk was ready. 

Dreesis stood in front of him, gazing at him intently, checking to make sure that all was right with the uniform. “You do look like a pilot ready for a trip. Then only thing you lack is the human’s personal gear,” he said.

“Yes, I will go to his guest room for that,” Hawk said. 

“Go with the gods’ blessing, friend Hawk.” 

“Thank you, Dreesis. And Make Make give you success in all your endeavors, water for your family and shelter overhead,” Hawk returned, shaking the desert man’s hand. 

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t wake up too soon,” Willen added, stepping from the shadows. 

“He should sleep for a very long time, Willen,” Hawk said with a smile. “He had enough Cloreian spice wine.” He clapped the adolescent on the shoulder. “You and Tris have my gratitude as well.” He looked back down at the unconscious human. “Do not let him see you. If he is alone, he will wake up thinking he was robbed by a fellow guard and none of you will be suspected.” 

Willen nodded. 

“I must be off if I am to get this one’s gear and get to the spaceport in time,” Hawk told them. 

Dreesis nodded. 

Hawk paused another moment and then turned and stepped into the shadows. The walk back to the center of town was short and soon Hawk was in the guest room reserved for Telor. He looked through the small suitcase the human had brought with him, familiarizing himself with its contents, then he looked for anything else of interest that Telor might have brought with him. There was nothing else. He gathered up the pilot’s things, turned off the light and left the room. At the spaceport everything went smoothly, a sleepy-eyed gate attendant only glanced at his identification. Soon, Hawk was in the cockpit, looking over the dials and controls, mentally making a checklist of how he would proceed with a hijacking. 

“Your first flight to Taladon?” a voice asked from behind him. 

Hawk turned around to see an older man gazing at him. “Yes,” he said truthfully.

“I thought maybe the information I was given was off a few years, but I see it wasn’t,” the newcomer said with a smile. “You seem a bit young for this assignment, friend. Did you irritate one of the cargo line attendants?” 

Hawk only wanted to get the ship out of the hanger and into space, but he had to humor this man, who apparently was the pilot after all. “I suppose I must have,” he said. 

“Which run?” 

“Bosk,” Hawk said, wishing he could have found out about this man he was flying with.

“Name’s Marcus Kollin.” 

“Telor Witt,” Hawk said. 

“Glad to meet you, Telor,” Kollin said, holding out his hand. 

Hawk shook hands. 

“Hopefully this will be the first in a series of pleasant runs.” Kollin sat down and began a pre-flight check. “You go make sure everyone’s on board, Telor, and then we’ll get this beast into space.” 

Hawk nodded and took the roster from the human. He readjusted his flight helmet as he walked into the main cabin, checked off the passengers’ names and then returned to the cockpit. Kollin was just finishing up the pre-flight when Hawk returned. 

“All set?” the pilot asked. 

“Yes,” Hawk answered. 

“Then take her out of here.” 

Hawk gazed at him for confirmation. 

“I want to see how good you are,” Kollin said matter-of-factly.

Hawk nodded and sat down. He alerted the hanger crew of impending launch and then powered up the engines. They launched smoothly and without incident. Hawk lay in the coordinates for the first stargate, one that lay a short distance outside of this solar system. Several hours later, he took the ship through the stargate and Kollin punched in the coordinates for the next stargate. 

“Nice job, Telor.” The human leaned back and closed his eyes. 

Hawk took advantage of his companion’s nap and consulted the computer for coordinates to Cronis. The route would take them through several stargates. Surreptitiously, he plotted the course and lay in the coordinates for the trip to the Galactic Council home planet. Just before the ship reached the next stargate, Hawk reached over to change the coordinates. As his finger touched the switch, a hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Just who are you?” Kollin asked, his voice hard and menacing. 

Hawk stared, unable to think of anything to say. 

“And don’t tell me you are Telor. I have heard of Telor, done some research on him. You fly too well to be Telor Witt.” Kollin’s eyes snapped with anger. “What are you doing with my ship?” 

===============================

Wilma sat in the ‘cell,’ trying very hard not to think of the last time she had been a prisoner. It was impossible. The picture of Erik Kormand kept marching into her mind, relentlessly. It was all she could do not to rush to the entrance, just inside the force field and scream her demands to be released. 

In another room, one where a monitor kept watch over the prisoner, Peter was discussing terms with a slaver. “So where can I tell my people you are going to take her?” he asked. It had been a long three weeks, setting this up. Harrowing for Wilma, he knew. But standing next to him was Garrott, the man he had most wanted to catch for several years. 

Garrott smiled. “When I was contacted from Cronis, I really couldn’t believe it. I can imagine the Human Rights people are celebrating this victory.” 

“I certainly know that my contacts in the Draconian inner circles are happy,” Peter replied. 

Garrott continued watching the screen where an obviously nervous former Directorate Defense commander was pacing, her face showing almost equal amounts of anger and fear. “First Rogers and his friend, the birdman, and now Colonel Wilma Deering,” he said. 

“I would imagine it would be quite a blow to Rogers to have his lady love in the same place he is.” Peter paused for dramatic effect. “Assuming he’s still alive.” 

“Why is it important to you?” Garrott asked.

“The Draconians have an even longer hatred for Captain Buck Rogers than does the Human Rights organization, Mr. Garrott. They want the maximum punishment value for what Rogers has done to their designs for galactic unity. They mentioned the distinct possibility of a bonus if he is provided with extra discomfiture. They even made that specific suggestion.” 

“Your bonus would be no good. The prison where Rogers was taken, provided he is still alive, does not take women.” 

“Where is it? Perhaps the Draconians can exert some pressure on this prison to make an exception.” Again, Peter paused. “Imagine being the only female prisoner in an all-male facility,” he added with a smirk. 

Garrott laughed. “Good luck getting the Arator Company to change that policy, although your idea certainly has merit.” He looked again at Wilma in the viewscreen, pacing back and forth in her cell. 

Garrott’s eyes had a hungry look and Peter knew who would have a chance at Wilma first if this had been a real transaction. He had to suppress a shudder, even while he was thinking of foolproof ways to pull this off. He could not afford for something to go wrong and Wilma end up in the hands of someone like Garrott. He found himself gazing appreciatively at his partner himself and thought for the thousandth time what a lucky man Buck Rogers was. Then he jerked himself back to reality. “I will contact my superiors and let them decide whether to pursue this idea or simply sell her and be rid of her that way,” Peter said. “Shall we meet tomorrow and I will give you the balance of the credits and the result of my superior’s investigation.”

Garrott nodded. “Tomorrow or the deal is off. No more delays. We will meet here and I will have my men with me.” He paused. “After all, Colonel Deering will be going somewhere suited to her considerable talents.”

“Of course, she will,” Peter replied, much more brightly than he felt.

================================

“Have you heard anything from Wilma?” the admiral asked Devlin for the hundredth time that day. 

“No, sir, nothing other than a brief acknowledgement that our message was received.” 

“Damn! What in the world are they doing?” He paced back and forth in the bridge, stopping behind the communication console as though wishing for someone to call. It was not only frustrating, but frightening. First he loses Buck and Hawk, now Wilma was totally cut off, or rather cutting herself off from the Searcher. He could only imagine what might be happening to her. She had been through a great deal already, and Asimov simply didn’t want anything else to happen to his second-in-command. He had already thought the unthinkable and wondered how she would take the news if Buck and Hawk had been killed. 

“I’m sure they’re all right, Admiral,” Devlin said encouragingly. 

“After almost four months, I’m not sure of anything,” the admiral growled. 

“The probability of Colonel Deering being in any kind of harm is 31.786 percent, Admiral. She is with a very capable espionage expert and she is very capable herself . . . considering she is human,” Crichton, who was standing to one side of the bridge, said. 

That was the last thing Asimov needed in his present mood. “Thanks very much, Crichton,” he replied sarcastically. “Will you go and see if Dr. Goodfellow needs your help?” he suggested. 

“Dr. Goodfellow is doing very well with his new friend, Mrs. Brock,” Crichton answered. “But I will go and check with him anyway. Especially since you do not seem to welcome my services.” 

Asimov just grunted in appreciation when the robot left. 

“Sir,” Devlin said. “Incoming call. Seems to be an official announcement of some kind.” 

“Put it on,” the admiral said, grateful for anything that would divert his mind from the various morbid thoughts. 

“To all ships, military and civilian,” the voice began. It was clear to Asimov and all on the bridge that this was an automatic, computer generated announcement. “Hijacked shuttle, serial 4432TZ, belonging to the Arator Mining Company. To be captured or disabled. Approximately twenty persons on board.” 

“Acknowledge receipt,” Asimov said with a sigh. “Then go on to the Rix quadrant, as ordered.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

They made the jump and lay in a course toward Colrix, one of the planets suggested by the Galactic Council as a source of information on slave trading, as well as Buck and Hawk’s whereabouts. “Let them know our ETA and base purpose.” Asimov sighed again. “You know the routine.” 

“Yes, Admiral.” 

An hour later notification of an unauthorized spacecraft came over the communicator.


	29. Chapter 29

Dr. Cole Burrows angrily marched into Dr. Beros’ office, even as he was being announced by the administrator’s aide. Buck Rogers was crouched in one corner of the office, his clothing drenched in sweat, intoning words in at least two languages. His eyes were tightly shut in concentration. If the doctor’s information was correct, the prisoner was doing very well considering it had been over eight hours beyond the time for his last dose of garox. 

Burrows walked over to Rogers, knelt down and pulled out a vial. 

“What are you doing?” Beros roared. 

Burrows stood up and turned toward the administrator. It was hard to hide his disgust. He wondered just how long he had been sitting in his office watching the terran suffer. “I am doing my duty, Administrator; what I have been trained to do. I am tending to the needs of those who work in the mines.” 

“Your duty is to follow my orders!” Beros stormed. “You will leave the prisoner alone.” 

“Let me remind you, Dr. Beros, that I file reports directly to the company headquarters, as mandated by the company charter.” 

Beros reddened even more. “I am the company’s representative here and I will do what is best for the fiscal stability of Avator Company.” 

“Does that include sadistic torture?” Burrows countered and then continued before the administrator could say anything. “I am well aware, Administrator, that what the company does and what they say to do are sometimes two different things. However, there is a limit to even the most blatant ignoring of rules and regulations.” He looked back at the man near his feet. He turned back to Beros. “I think you are getting a great deal of personal pleasure out of this man’s suffering.” Burrows paused a beat. “And that is a dangerous thing for an administrator of a prison mine to do. It is something that I will have to put down on my personal status report about you.” His voice was lowered, but was still forceful. 

“Be careful, Doctor, you can easily be ‘replaced,’ ” Beros threatened. 

Burrows narrowed his eyes at the threat. “I am very careful, Dr. Beros. So careful that all of my personal as well as professional notes, papers and computer files would immediately be sent to the company’s head offices should something happen to me.” 

He watched Beros’ eyes widen in surprise. 

“It would seem, Administrator, that with the push by many quadrants to form a unified galactic government, you would want to be careful about blatant acts of atrocity.” 

“The company will never be dictated to by a planet several hundred light years away,” Beros retorted. 

“Administrator, all of this argument is pointless. Suffice it to say, the eastern continent is very much interested in a union with the Galactic Council. That will bring more attention to the activities of the Arator Company and its practices.” 

“You would have me coddle the man who has caused so much discord, Doctor?” Beros snapped. 

“No, Dr. Beros, but let me point out a couple of things. First of all, the man is addicted to garox and he knows it. That is far from coddling. He has been in manacles for almost three weeks. Definitely not coddling. And I believe you are getting some kind of personal bonus from some off planet group for each day Captain Rogers is a prisoner, especially a broken prisoner. I think his reaction to your revelation after his capture proves that, but once he is dead, that bonus ceases, correct?” Without waiting for an answer, Cole continued. “He is exhibiting suicidal tendencies, Dr. Beros. How much longer do you think he’ll last treated like this? How much is he worth dead?” 

Beros’ eyes sparked with anger and Burrows knew he had struck a nerve. 

Beros looked as though he had swallowed nails. “You have beat that issue to death,” he growled. “What is your other point, Doctor?” 

“Simply that the discord was here before Rogers and his friends showed up. The guards have complained about feeling like prisoners themselves for several years,” Burrows pointed out. 

“They have been given raises.” 

“Credits can’t buy loyalty, Administrator. They need to have something to make life interesting. And that game Rogers introduced is just what could do it,” Burrows said. 

“A frivolous ball game?” Beros asked, incredulous. 

“Yes, a ball game, Doctor. A diversion, something to take their minds off the oppressive nature of, not only the job, but also life in a cave.” 

Beros growled out an unintelligible epitaph and then pulled at his chin. “You are proposing that this prisoner be allowed to teach this game to the guards?” 

“And to some of the prisoners as well.” At Beros’ frown, Burrows continued. “A select few. You know how the suicide rate has risen among the prisoners. And guards, too, for that matter. I’m sure the company appreciates that, too.” 

“The guards, not the prisoners,” Beros spat out. 

Rogers cried out in pain and Burrows knelt down beside him again. His eyes were open now, aware and lucid. Their depths told of anger and fear, despair and determination. Burrows pulled out the small vial. “I think the guards will want to prove their superiority over the prisoners in this way, too,” he said as he pressed the vial against Rogers’ arm. 

“No, that is not an option,” Beros snapped. “But be aware, Doctor. Twelve-sixteen will work. He will not just play games with the guards. And most of the time, he will wear the manacles.” 

“When he is not on the job,” Burrows said tersely. “Infection kills as well.” 

With a growl, Beros nodded. “Get him out of here.” He paused, gazing deeply into the physician’s eyes. “You have pushed a great deal today, Doctor. But even blackmail has a limit. I think you also need to be careful.” 

“I will take that into consideration, Administrator. And my next report will indicate your concern for the well-being of the employees here,” Burrows replied, helping Rogers to his feet and guiding him out of the room. 

By the time Burrows got his patient to the sick bay, the garox had begun to take effect. Rogers seemed more aware of his surroundings, although he was still groggy and weak. “How do you feel?” the doctor asked. 

“Why don’t you just shoot me and put me out of my misery?” Rogers countered, leaning against the doctor for balance. 

Although delivered in a facetious sort of way, Burrows thought the prisoner was fairly serious. “Considering how long you went without the garox, you did rather well.” He pointed to an examination bed. “Sit down while I get you something to drink.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Burrows gave Rogers his drink and then pulled out a controller for the shackles. “By the way, I heard you talking in terra lingua, but what was that other language you were speaking in the administrator’s office?” 

Rogers’ forehead creased in thought. Everything that had happened in Dr. Beros’ office seemed so jumbled He remembered seeing Sky Mother and hearing her sing something. He thought he remembered Koori, too, but he couldn’t be sure of that. “I really don’t recall what I was doing or saying in there, but the one thing I can remember was a time with one of the bird people, a woman who served as a healer for her people. So maybe it was some of her language I was remembering.” 

“Interesting, very interesting that you would pull up something like that from a healer in order to help you cope with another ‘illness.’ 

“I guess you do whatever works, doc,” Buck said somberly. His head was clearing rapidly, and he was remembering more snatches of his time in Beros’ office. The more he remembered, the more anger he felt. He recalled the administrator wanting him to beg for the drug. And there was the promise of slow death in the darkness of the mines. That had brought fear, more than it had anger and Buck resented that he had probably shown that fear in front of Beros. 

Burrows saw the range of emotions crossing the prisoner’s face and guessed that he was remembering his time in the administrator’s office. He had no intention of asking Rogers about that time. He had enough evidence to guess what had happened, and with the great possibility of his office now being monitored or would soon be, he didn’t want Beros holding anything else over him. There was one question he wanted to ask, though. “This the first time he’s had you in his office?” 

“No, but the first time he’s withheld the garox this long.”  
Burrows sighed. It was just as he thought. He felt it had been risky enough confronting the administrator as he had, making the bluffing threats he had made, but the doctor felt he had to do something. The administrator’s behavior, especially toward this prisoner was going beyond extreme. Burrows knew, though, that he was going to have to put his notes in a place to ensure that what he had promised could actually take place. With a sigh, he pressed the button that turned on the controller. When he activated it, the manacles fell off the prisoner’s wrists and ankles. 

Buck almost dropped his glass in surprise. He stared at his hands and then looked at Burrows. “Thank you,” he said, gratitude heavy in his voice. 

“Only during work hours. You will still wear them when you are in your cell at night,” the doctor replied. 

“Better than twenty-four seven,” Buck answered, finishing off the drink the doctor gave him. 

“Yes, it is.” Burrows mouth quirked into a slight smile. “Now, would you do me a favor and try to stay out of trouble?” 

“I’ll do my best,” Buck replied with a smile. “But since the administrator seems to have a vested interest in my misery….” 

“Prisoner, please, thoughts to yourself.” 

“Yessir,” Buck said contritely. He seriously didn’t want to get the doctor in trouble. Like Ril, Burrows had truly been trying to help him. 

“Not too much time before dinner, but see if you can do some work in the recreation area,” Burrows said, calling in a privileged. He turned to the other prisoner. “Take twelve-sixteen to the recreation room to do some clean up before dinner. When he is returned to his cell, he will be re-shackled.” The privileged nodded and motioned to Buck to follow him. 

============================

“Look, Peter, we have narrowed this down now. We can reasonably find Buck and Hawk. Why wait?” Wilma asked in exasperation. 

“Two reasons, Wilma,” he said. “First, we have a chance to get Garrott and rid this part of the galaxy of another drug and slave trafficker. Captured, he could narrow our search down even more.” 

Wilma sighed. “I’m not totally convinced, but go ahead.” 

“If we leave now, Garrott gets suspicious. Probably figures we were here doing just what we are here doing, digging up information on Buck and Hawk.” 

Wilma started to say something, then stopped as possible implications occurred to her. 

“He might be so inclined to contact Buck and Hawk’s captors and get rid of the ‘evidence.’ ” 

“Yes, you’re right,” Wilma admitted, slightly deflated. “But I am not looking forward to being in that cage again, waiting for Garrott to bring his bullies along with him.” 

“It will be over tonight and I have a plan that will put you in charge when Garrott and his men show up.” 

“What do you have in mind?” Wilma asked, her curiosity piqued. 

“Just this, Wilma,” he said, pulling out a small box and opening it up. She leaned over while he showed her a tiny device of remarkable simplicity. “Detonated remotely and it will immobilize everyone in the room almost immediately,” he explained. 

She nodded and then grinned. “I might just enjoy doing this, Peter,” she quipped. 

“And as soon as Garrott is in custody, we find out what prisons the Arator Company runs,” Peter said. “And then we can find Hawk and Buck.”

“Yes.” 

Later, as the afternoon ground toward evening, Wilma again waited, once again feeling as though snakes were creeping up on her in the dark. She paced, then she sat down. She kept peering beyond the force bars, watching, waiting. It was nerve wracking. With a soft whoosh, doors on the opposite side of the room opened, admitting Garrott and several of his enforcers. The slaver had a leering grin on his face that boded ill if Peter and Wilma’s plans went awry. Peter followed, still in character, smiling as though he had just been given a shipload of precious gems. 

“Well, Colonel Deering, it seems you will be privileged to spend the remainder of your days on the Palatis Pleasure asteroid. And I get the first pleasure.” Garrott turned to Peter. “Turn off the force-field so I can look more closely at what I’ll be delivering to Brendel.” 

Peter turned to the force field controls. One of Garrott’s men watched him closely. It was obvious there was a great deal of mutual distrust. All three of the enforcers had their pistols out and pointed either at Peter or Wilma. They were taking no chances.

The force bars disappeared and one of Garrott’s men reached in and grabbed her, dragging Wilma close to him. With great effort, she repressed a shudder, but still she struggled, digging her heels into the floor. 

“Not so self-assured now, are you, Colonel?” Garrott asked. “But then I think Erik Kormand took care of a bit of that before, didn’t he?”

Wilma felt anger flare at references to what Kormand had done to her. The idea that others outside the inner circle of her friends knew; and had passed along to anyone that came along, caused not only anger, but a renewal of the shame she had felt during that horrible time on Mendalis. She lashed out and attempted to break Garrott’s hold on her, but he simply shoved her into the arms of one of the enforcers. 

“Search her,” Garrott ordered. “And then let’s get out of here. I don’t like the surroundings.” 

With an anticipatory grin, the man holding her started feeling down her sides, then he felt her breasts. Suddenly with a soft pop, the sonic disrupter sounded; its shrill scream painful to the ears. Everyone in the room doubled over in agony. Except Wilma. Even though the sound still hurt, the earplugs protected her from the worst of the blast. She grabbed one of the enforcer’s pistols and stunned everyone except Peter into unconsciousness. Garrott fell last, his look of disbelief very satisfying to her. Then she turned off the disrupter and checked Peter. “You all right?” 

He rubbed his ears, groaning softly as he sat up. Then as he recovered, he grinned, and saluted.


	30. Chapter 30

“No, no! Dribble! Remember to dribble,” Buck called out to the guard with the ball. “Go show ‘em, Barney,” he instructed the privileged who had taken on the role of assistant coach. While Buck would much prefer teaching football, his favorite game, coaching basketball was almost making his stay in the mines bearable. He had been working with all the guards who were interested, which was most of them, for the past four days. There was a small group of privileged prisoners, Barney foremost among them, who had asked to be taught as well. They had much less time to work out, but Buck did what he could for them. Barney apparently also had more privileges than the rest so he spent more time in the rec room than any of the others did. Buck suspected that the prisoner was assigned to keep an eye on him, too. For someone as tall as Barney was, he had a grace and style that rivaled the greatest basketball stars of his day, college or pro. Buck could easily see a very interesting game between the guards and privileged prisoners in the future—if Beros allowed it, that is.

This day over twenty guards, either playing or watching, were in the rec room and Buck felt the stirrings of an idea forming in his mind. After Barney had given instruction, Buck called all the men to the center of the court. “We’re going to play a scrimmage.” At the puzzled looks, he explained. “It’s a practice game to see how much you’ve picked up and how well you all can play together.” While he was talking a few more guards had entered the cavernous room and were watching with interest. 

Buck split the group in half. “You are the blue team and you are the red,” he said before thinking. 

“How do we tell each other apart when we begin?” one of the guards asked. 

Buck paused and pondered. How indeed? Between guards and prisoners the differentiation was easy, but all guards wore the same outfits, dull gray and black. _Jackets!_ “One group—red team, leave your jackets on, the rest, take yours off.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Soon the two teams were assembled. “Okay. Everyone will get to play, but not all at once.” He looked at Ril. “You are coach of the red team. I’ll coach blue team.” 

“Me?” Ril asked. 

“Yeah, you. Do you think I can coach two teams at once?” Buck asked with a wry grin. 

“Well, all right, if you insist,” Ril said and he pulled his ten men to one side. 

Buck motioned his men to the other side of the court and gave them instructions. “You men know the rules. You’ve done a hell of a job these past four days. Remember, though, and I know some of you are guilty of this – no hot-dogging. This is a team sport.” 

“Hot-dogging?” a guard asked. 

“Uh, you don’t try to do all the scoring on your own. Share the ball. Pass it to someone else if you are ganged up on. Pass it to someone who can make a better shot. In other words, share the glory,” Buck explained. He looked at each one of them. “Any questions about the rules of play?” 

“No, Coach, let’s play,” a muscular guard, Kris, said. 

Buck grinned in remembrance. Three days ago, Kris had been the one who had tried his patience the most; hogging the ball, shoving the other guards around, acting like an arrogant jackass. But the final straw had been when the guard had persisted in calling him ‘Twelve-sixteen,’ despite Buck’s continued insistence that he would not be called by a number during the games. 

“Twelve-sixteen!” Kris had called yet again that day. 

Buck was immediately in the guard’s face in his best drill sergeant imitation. “How badly do you want to play?” he shouted in the man’s face. Kris had turned a bright shade of red as the rest of the men stopped what they were doing and watched. Buck knew then, in a tiny corner of his mind, that he was pushing it too far, but he had had enough. At least on the court, he would be referred to by his name. 

“You are a prisoner, that is your number,” Kris had answered, ignoring Buck’s question. 

“I am the coach during any basketball session, I am not a number!” Buck had responded quickly and loudly enough for the others to hear. “During a sport’s game, the coach is boss and I will be called by name, not by number.”

“But prisoners don’t have names,” Kris had insisted. 

“I’ll be damned if I play another minute if I’m going to be called by a number!” Buck had said and turned to walk off. He had known he was going to catch seven kinds of hell, but he couldn’t help it. 

A voice had called after him. It was Kris. “Uh, Coach?” 

Buck turned back in surprise. “What did you say?” 

“Coach?” Kris asked again. 

He remembered grinning. ‘Coach’ would do. From then on he was called ‘Coach.’ And for some reason, he had lived to continue being ‘Coach’ without any repercussions from Beros. That had surprised him more than the guards’ interaction with him. 

Buck had also been astounded how quickly this game had caught on, too. It was almost like drowning men catching at a life preserver and it was then that he fully realized how oppressed the guards were, as well. 

He looked over the men again. “Masters, you, Wilkins, Reesis, Ward and Pless will start. You will play for a period and then five others. That way, everyone will play for the same amount of time,” he instructed. “I’ll let you decide your positions. But don’t argue over who will be forwards; there’s gotta be a few guards.” A couple of the men grinned fiercely, ready for the competition, but the positions were chosen quickly and the scrimmage began within a few minutes. A few times Buck had to call time outs for various violations, but all in all he was pleased. His only problem, something he hadn’t anticipated was not having a referee. After a quarter of play, Buck called Barney over. “You have to take my place. Someone has to be the ref.”

Soon the game began again and Buck was intent on following each play. By the time another quarter ended, he was training a couple of non-playing guards to be referees. Taking a quick break for a much-needed drink of water, Buck thought how complicated this game could be, something he hadn’t thought about when he was younger. Then, someone else was dealing with all the little nuances that went together to make the games work. But he again noticed what a great diversion it was for the guards and he thought of how it also seemed to affect their outlook when they were on the job. They seemed a bit more relaxed, more patient, and it pleased him. Even better, though, Buck was quick to figure the possibilities of such diversion. By the time the scrimmage had ended, he figured the only guards not in the rec room were the ones on duty in the cellblocks. 

Buck congratulated the men on a job well done. 

“That was fun!” Ril said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so tired in my life, but it’s good tired. Thanks!” 

“It was fun,” Buck concurred. “We’re going to have to have an evening game sometime soon where more can watch. Maybe a real tournament-like series of games.” 

“Well, the room’s big enough,” another guard said. “I’ll make the suggestion to the boss.” 

Buck nodded and headed for the prisoners’ shower room to fulfill his maintenance duties. Barney joined him.

“This basketball. It’s a good game. I liked being a coach, too,” Barney said, haltingly at first, as though shy or unsure of himself. 

“You’re a good one, too,” Buck said. “You have a talent for this game, Barney. You’re already better than I could ever hope to be, even if it was something I aspired to, which I never did. You have a talent for leadership, too.” 

Barney looked embarrassed. “You are just saying that,” he finally murmured. 

“No, I’m serious. You are an excellent player and a terrific teacher.” 

“Because I’m so tall. I can reach the basket easier,” Barney argued. 

“Maybe that helps your game, but agility comes with or without height,” Buck replied. 

Barney said nothing. The only sound was that of his broom, sweeping the dust into a pile. 

“Yeah, and you weren’t treated any different from any other man, either,” Buck added. 

Barney gazed at him briefly before continuing his sweeping. 

“Despite the fact that you’re a prisoner, everyone seems to respect you,” Buck went on. He scrubbed the walls waiting for a response, well aware that what he was saying now could very well get back to the administrator. Somehow, though, Buck fully believed that Barney wasn’t giving out any information. 

“I don’t cause any trouble,” Barney finally said, quietly as though someone might be listening. 

Buck couldn’t help it; he began laughing. “I do have a tendency to get in trouble, don’t I?”

“Maybe,” Barney said noncommittally. 

“Barney, I know you were, for all practical purposes, a slave on Neckar.” He paused, watching the black man over his shoulder. “By the way, I have checked. Unless their technology is a lot more sophisticated than I’ve seen in other parts of the mine, there aren’t any listening devices here.” He paused. “Let’s put it this way, if there had been, I’d have been nailed to the administrator’s wall a long time ago.” He smiled. “Walls are great places to vent your anger. They don’t talk back and they don’t give a hoot in hell who you are.” 

Barney gazed at him again and then he smiled. “You are right there, Coach.” 

Buck smiled with him. “You are a coach, too, Barney. And when we’re alone, just call me Buck.” 

Barney nodded and worked quietly for a few minutes. “It did feel good, them talking to me like I knew something. Almost like I was one of them.” He paused a beat. “I’ve been a slave all my live.” He paused again. “Don’t get me wrong, Miss Brisella was nice, but a slave’s a slave.” 

Buck nodded. “Yeah and it’s a shame to have been subjugated that long. You have the makings of a natural born leader.” 

Barney looked surprised. “Me?” 

“Yes, you. Do you think they made you a privileged just because you can follow orders?” Buck asked. 

“Well, I guess I did.” 

“There are others that have been here longer than you, that don’t have privileged status. Bet most of them are also good at following orders, too,” Buck said.

“Yes, but….” 

“Part of the reason is because you could be trusted. The other prisoners respect you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so,” Buck insisted. 

They finished and went to the guards’ shower room, which by now was almost empty. They worked side by side for another hour and then went to the mess hall where Buck picked up a bowl of the now cold dinner and his dose of garox. He took his bowl back to his cell where he sat silently as Barney regretfully snapped on his manacles. 

“It’s okay,” Buck mouthed. Barney smiled and then left. 

==========================

The stargate was coming up. Hawk turned to the human. “Check the figures. I am not taking us anywhere to cause harm to anyone on board this shuttle.” 

Without taking his hand off Hawk’s arm, Kollin did as suggested, his eyes scanning the coordinates at a glance. “What are you going to Cronis for? Some kind of political statement or something?” 

In a move faster than he thought capable, Hawk had the small stun gun against Kollin’s side. The next motion set the coordinates into the navigational computer. Within minutes the shuttle passed through the stargate on its way to Cronis. 

“Now that we are on the right course, I can explain what I am doing,” Hawk said. 

“By deviating our course, this ship has been put on a ten quadrant alert. Other ships will be under orders to capture or disable us.” 

“Even though there are passengers aboard?” Hawk asked. 

“Even though,” Kollin replied. “And some of these spaceship pilots aren’t that worried about whether anyone lives or dies. They only care about the reward the company gives.”

“Then feel glad I am a better pilot than Telor Witt,” Hawk said with a wry smile. 

“Who are you?” 

“I am Hawk.” It was said with bold declaration. 

“Obviously you are not an employee of Arator Company,” Kollin said. Somehow when his companion had said he had no intentions of causing harm, he believed him. It was also becoming clear that this man was a non-human, even though in uniform he easily passed for a human pilot. The eyes, Kollin determined. That had to be it. 

“Oh, but technically, I am,” Hawk corrected. “But not exactly the kind of employee you are thinking of.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I was taken to Bosk against my will. Myself and a friend.” 

Kollin thought of Hawk’s words and the realization began to dawn on him. “A prisoner?” he asked. 

“A slave,” Hawk replied tersely. 

Kollin stared in disbelief as Hawk entered more information into the navigational computer. Then his mind took in Hawk’s actions. “What are you doing?” 

“Adding something that will keep the course coordinates from being altered. I have gone too far to be thwarted now.” He paused a moment. “My friend is counting on my success,” he added softly. 

“You do realize that I have an obligation to the passengers and ship,” Kollin said. 

“Then it is in your best interest to trust me,” Hawk said. “But if the company questions your actions, I did pull a weapon on you.” 

“I am going to trust you to keep your word about my ship and these men. If I have any doubts….” 

“I understand.” 

“Those men back there will suspect nothing for a few hours, but after the next gate, they will,” Kollin said. 

“I will deal with that when it happens,” Hawk responded. 

“They won’t be happy and some may become violent.” 

“Again, that will happen or not happen at a future time,” 

Kollin decided to change tracks. “I heard of an attempted escape on Bosk. That related to you?” 

“Yes,” Hawk said simply, deigning not to elaborate. 

They flew on in silence for a half an hour before anyone said anything. Hawk pondered Kollins’ warning and kept a close watch for other ships. He also considered the passengers and thought of several options. He had to get to Cronis. That was all there was to it. No choices. If he could get there, he could contact the Searcher. Then they could rescue Buck—and Tigerman. 

“Your friend,” Kollin finally said. “He’s still on Bosk, I gather.” 

“Yes, and his friend.” 

“Arator will not give them up without a hard battle. They paid a great deal of money….” 

“We were kidnapped! We were taken against our will and forced into the most depraved and cruel slavery!” Hawk snapped. 

“Regardless, the company will not relinquish anything easily,” Kollin pointed out. 

“They will have no choice in this matter. My friend was serving as an executive officer on a Galactic Council Earth Directorate research vessel when he and I were kidnapped,” Hawk said. 

Kollin nodded. “I suspect you will have eventual success but still not without a fight. Arator Company is a hard nut to crack when they are crossed.” 

The Arator Company does not totally understand who they are dealing with, either. My people have lived a type of bondage for centuries. I am harder than any “nut,” as you put it.” 

“Somehow I don’t doubt your word, Hawk,” Kollin said. “Who are your people?” 

“I am of the bird people,” Hawk declared. Then his full attention returned to the computer screen. They would soon be going through the next stargate. The transition was smooth and Hawk felt Cronis within his grasp. Only one more gate and they would be within a few hours of the Galactic government’s headquarters. Then he saw the ship that had just appeared on the computer read-outs. It was massive, and fully capable of taking them in tow. And it was turning toward them. 

“It looks as though we get a real test of your flying abilities,” Kollin murmured.


	31. Chapter 31

Several more scrimmages had only served to whet the guards’ appetites for what Buck called a “real NBA-style” game. There had been enough interested guards to form four teams and a tournament had been set up. Buck felt as though he was on a roller coaster racing down to the finish. While he still worked hard, sometimes not getting dinner until after the other prisoners were already in their cells, at least part of the day was spent coaching the guards on their game. 

If Bosk could be said to have a national past time, basketball would be it. It was as though the game was a seat belt on which many of the guards relied. It was an attempt at normalcy in an otherwise horrendous and depressing world. As for himself, it was something that allowed him respite from the unremitting reality of his addiction. 

The only person not happy with the events was the administrator who had begrudgingly allowed a one-night tourney as opposed to several nights of fewer games each. Buck grinned at the thought that Beros was working for him in this instance. Even the administrator realized, after requests from almost all the senior guards and many of the junior ones, that the consequences of not having this diversion would be catastrophic. Beros had finally given in, then harangued Buck for over an hour with a warning and tongue-lashing that almost turned the office walls blue. 

“Barney,” Buck said, during a cleaning session. “I told you I grew up in pre-holocaust days on Earth, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and it’s still hard to believe you lived that long ago.”

“Yeah, sometimes I think I’m dreaming now, or rather having a nightmare,” Buck said. 

“It is better than it was before,” Barney pointed out. 

“True,” Buck said and then he paused in his mopping and gazed seriously at his companion. He hoped he had been reading the signals right or he was a dead man. “I also told you about where I lived, right?”

“Yes, the United States of America. A place of many freedoms.” 

Buck’s mind had been much on his past, and the freedom that he had enjoyed. Freedom almost seemed an obsession to him now, something that lay on his mind heavily and constantly. “Yeah,” he said wistfully. Then he brought himself back to the present. “Now don’t get me wrong, Barney, it wasn’t Utopia by any means. There was even slavery there.” 

“You had slavery on Earth?” Barney looked incredulous. 

“Yes, a long time before I was born. And it took a war to end it.” Buck continued mopping. “But after the war was over, the different states, uh, parts of my country were united again.”

Barney said nothing, but a glance at the black man showed that he was thinking about what Buck was saying. 

“And the hatred?” 

“Hatred?” Buck wondered where his friend had picked up on that. 

“Yes, always with slavery, there is hatred. Hatred for the masters; hatred toward the slaves. If there were no hatred, there would be no slavery. Hatred and fear.” 

Buck was stunned, but he saw the wisdom of Barney’s words.

“Were the slaves in your United States of America black?”

“Yes, ‘fraid so, Barney,” Buck answered. He knew before he and Hawk had taken the shuttle down to Neckar that the planet had been colonized by Earth refugees, but had not thought of the implications of the dying slave system on the colony and from which source its roots may have arisen. 

“What happened to them after this war?” Barney asked. 

“It took a long time, but eventually blacks and whites shared the same freedoms. We were still working on it when we tried to blow ourselves up. Nuclear holocaust kills everyone equally,” Buck said somberly. 

“My country, people were afraid. Most of us slaves were sold off planet, like me. Seemed an easy way for folks like the Ahern’s,” Barney said bitterly. 

“I’m sorry, Barney,” Buck said softly.

“Slavery is a bad thing.” 

“No argument here. And I didn’t even grow up with it,” Buck agreed. 

“Maybe that is why you have been so . . . angry. You know freedom.” Barney sighed. 

“Would you like to know freedom?” Buck asked softly. 

“Yes, but it is impossible for someone like me . . . here,” Barney said just as softly. 

“No, it’s not,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper.  
“What are you saying?” Barney asked. 

“How many people are going to be at that tournament?” 

Barney stared at him for a moment. “Most of the guards,” he answered, realization dawning. 

“Best opportunity to gain our freedom,” Buck said softly.

“But how can we do this?” Barney asked. 

Buck noted with some satisfaction that Barney had said ‘we’. 

“No, it cannot be done,” Barney suddenly declared with a shake of his head.

“Barney, do you want to be a slave forever?” Buck asked fervently, his voice still low. 

“No, but….” 

“Then we have to take a chance.” Buck furiously scrubbed the floor, all the while willing Barney to agree. He could not do this alone as he had before.  
“But how?”

“Take ident cards from a couple of guards. You know, the one that opens cells, lets you in elevators and offices. We open the cellblocks. Capture guards.” 

“How do we keep the company from coming and taking it back over?” Barney asked. 

“We contact Cronis and ask for asylum.” 

“I still don’t know how you can be sure this will work, Coach,” Barney said doubtfully, but Buck saw hope in the black man’s eyes. 

“I can’t be totally sure, but I am sure that I will not remain a slave any longer than I have to and this is our best possible chance,” Buck replied. He was also aware of the fact that Beros was not happy with this state of affairs and was showing signs of a big blow-up. It was in his eyes. Dr. Burrows was apparently the only one who was keeping it from happening. The administrator had as much as told Buck that once the tournament was over, things would go back to normal. No games, more work, the shackles, the garox, unremitting and endless. Somehow, Buck felt that the guards wouldn’t like the cessation of games either, but that was a minor point in the totality of things. Even though he felt that Hawk would eventually get to the _Searcher_, Buck was not in the least doubtful that the administrator would commit genocide on prisoners when the large ship showed up and demanded that he be turned over. “And I think you want a taste of freedom as well.” __

_ __ _

__

Barney was silent for a few minutes. “Yes, I would like that, I think,” he said softly. “What do I need to do for this freedom that is so precious to you?” 

Buck was momentarily struck by the uninhibited poetry of his fellow prisoner’s way of speaking. Then he got back to the issue at hand. “Just watch the administration. Get an idea of everyone’s habits,” Buck said. Don’t tell anyone what we’re contemplating, but try to figure out who we can trust.” Buck paused. “We have only a few days, but I think that works to our advantage, too.” He paused a beat. “And I don’t think we’ll get a second chance.” 

Barney nodded and they resumed working. But they had not been alone. A pair of eyes had been watching; eyes that were not the least bit sympathetic. 

===========================

Ril stood with five other men, facing the administrator, wondering what was going on.  
“You six men have been here the longest. You have proven your loyalty,” Beros said. He paced back and forth in front of the men, stopping in front of Ril. “You have been in close association with prisoner twelve-sixteen more than anyone else. How sympathetic are you to him?” At Ril’s puzzled look, he added, “The one called Coach.”

Ril knew exactly who the administrator was talking about. He also knew of Administrator Beros’ animosity toward Rogers. He could only wonder that this summons was some kind of test. “My sympathies are with my job, Administrator, and with the company.” 

Beros nodded, looking satisfied. “Yes, I was told how you captured that one and kept him in line on the way back to the mines. Good.” 

No one said a word and Beros paced some more. “There is going to be an attempt by several prisoners and possibly some guards to take over the mines.” 

There was an audible gasp from the guards. Ril wondered at the audacity of the prisoner who had named himself several months ago, but was not totally surprised. But guards?

Ril felt a flaring of anger. Rogers was using the games for his own purposes. He turned his attention back to the administrator. 

“I realize that several of you are going to be participating in this so-called tournament, but also watch prisoner twelve-sixteen and his privileged assistant. If they do anything unusual, kill them. Put the guards not watching this game on alert. If you feel it is necessary to post more guards during the game, do so, but do not alert the mutineers to what you are doing ahead of time. I think the six of you, along with myself are more than capable of taking care of a few insurgents, but however you do it, I want this stopped.” 

“Why don’t we just throw them in detention or punishment now, sir?” Ril asked. Others nodded. 

“No, I want them caught in the act.”

Ril saw the wisdom of that, even as what he was hearing made him ill. He had seen what had been done to the prisoner in the past. Nodding along with the rest, making the same promises, Ril still pondered deep inside. And he continued pondering that night. Had Rogers planned this all along, from the first moment he picked up one of the balls? Ril thought back to the time Rogers had taught him and Terrence how to play. No, that had only been the attempts of a sick and depressed man to cope. The prisoner had actually escaped using another avenue. Somehow Ril thought the idea to use the tournament was a recent one. He remembered how surprised Rogers had been when so many guards and even privileged prisoners had shown up for the scrimmages. It was then that the idea had been formulated. Ril was sure of it. 

Again, Ril could not wonder at the prisoner’s attempt. He tried to put himself in Rogers’ shoes. No, he would definitely try to do the same thing himself. And would it be such a bad thing if twelve-sixteen did escape? No, a tiny voice in his head whispered. Ril knew that most pets were treated more humanely than these men were in the mines, especially since the most recent administration took over. Company quotas seemed to go higher and higher, while the number of prisoners seemed to stay constant or even drop from time to time. He had heard that many prisoners were what were referred to as ‘dumping ground prisoners,’ those sold not because they had committed crimes, but because someone was seeking revenge on an enemy or a rival. And Rogers was one of them, having made one of the worst enemies in the galaxy. 

_But why should I jeopardize what I have for a prisoner?_ he argued with himself. Because they are sentient beings, his conscience answered. _And what the hell do I have? An endless round of watching misery, banking useless money and feeling depressed at the depravity around me_. Ril shook his head, a bit irritated not only with himself, but also with his wishy-washy attitude. Whatever he decided, Ril knew what he was going to do. He knew for the past six months what was right. It was just that at the time, Ril didn’t know what to do about it. Now he had a better idea.____


	32. Chapter 32

As the tournament was preparing to start, Buck was even more astonished at how many guards, administrative personnel and even some privileged were in attendance. 

The teams huddled together, discussing strategy, pumping each other up. If he didn’t know better, Buck might think he was at a Bulls game. The guards of the different teams had consulted with one another and had come up with various ‘uniforms.’ He grinned. His particular group had figured out a way to dye their tee shirts a dark red, obviously picking up on his loyalty to the Chicago team of his past. They had various numbers on their backs. Another group was wearing white tees and the other two were in black and blue, respectively. 

Buck consulted with a guard who had volunteered to be the scorekeeper and then the two who were serving as referees. Buck rubbed his hands down his pants, his nerves feeling on edge. He willed the garox to leave him alone for the next couple of hours, knowing he needed everything he had to pull this off. Only Barney and one or two other prisoners knew what was going on. 

The head guard came over to him. “You ready, Coach?” 

“Yeah,” Buck answered. “Let’s get this started.” 

The guard nodded and then turned away. Buck had a funny feeling, wondering at the inflection the guard had given to the word “ready.” Get a hold of yourself, Buck, he admonished himself. Nerves! 

The game began, the white team and the blue team playing against each other. Buck watched, alternately sitting quietly and then jumping up and running down the sideline, shouting instructions to the coach of the white team, a younger guard who was still very unsure of himself. Barney did the same on the other side of the rec room. By halftime, Buck was tiring quickly and he knew they would have to go through with the plan in the next quarter. He surreptitiously signaled Barney, who in turn pulled over another privileged. Buck felt his heart racing in anxiety and he willed himself to calm down. 

The game began once more after a brief intermission, and the players raced up and down the court furiously, Buck doing the same thing along the sideline, continuing to shout advice and encouragement. Part of him felt lost in the game, playing vicariously with the players, almost forgetting where he was, but a part of his mind kept him alert of his mission. So much depended on Barney and his handpicked, trusted men. 

The ball, passed from one white team member to another, was thrown wild and players scrambled for it, desperate to get control of the ball before it went out of bounds. Buck was blindsided and felt as though a Mack Truck had plowed into him. _Where had that come from? It was only supposed to be a slight hit_. Buck felt the hard floor beneath him. He struggled to sit up, despite his dizziness, trying to maintain consciousness at the same time.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Coach! Coach!” a voice called out. It was Barney. Hands gently checked him over. The blackness receded somewhat. He had to get control here, he thought or everything was going to fall apart before it ever happened. Did the guards know?

“Coach!” Another voice. The doctor’s. 

This plan wasn’t going to work if he couldn’t get away from the crowd and get an access card right away. Buck struggled to sit up and finally succeeded with Barney’s help.

“Get him to my office,” Burrows said, his voice anxious.

Someone helped him up, put his arm around their shoulders and began leading him from the rec room. It had been very quiet, Buck noted in hindsight, but now there was clapping and shouts from the guards for his well-being. He felt lucidity returning, but not fast enough to suit him. He was being taken to the doctor’s office. Hopefully by the time he got there he would be in shape to do what he had planned. By the time he was out of the rec room, everything focused decently. “I can walk on my own,” he told the privileged who had been half carrying him. 

At the juncture to the corridor leading to Burrow’s office, Buck stopped. In front of him, a pistol in his hand stood Dr. Beros. 

“This is going to be very convenient. All the conspirators together, attempting their mutiny,” Beros said. 

Buck said nothing, only stood quietly. Somehow Beros had found out about the plan. The sickness of defeat replaced the physical discomfort he had felt when he had been decked. Buck sagged against Barney in his exhaustion and despair. 

=================================

Ril stood with the team he was coaching, the black team, and watched the action, most particularly Buck Rogers. When the player careened into the terran, Rogers went down hard and didn’t move for a couple of minutes. The tall privileged attended to the terran, but he was slow getting up. Dr. Burrows rushed over and that was when Ril noticed Dr. Beros leaving his seat. After signaling to other guards, including Ril, the administrator went out of the main entrance, the one leading not only to the cell blocks, but to the administrative offices, including the sick bay. 

“Bruce, take over,” Ril said to his assistant coach. “I should be back before this game is over.” He noticed a few of the other guards leaving, also answering the administrator’s signal. 

“You will eliminate whoever accompanies the prisoner,” Beros was saying ahead of him. “Doesn’t matter who it is.” 

“Yessir,” two voices answered. 

Blake and Jes, Ril thought. He pulled out his small laser pistol and set it on stun. The administrator was out for blood this time and didn’t care who was killed. Ril’s thoughts were chaotic, but one thing was sure. He couldn’t let other guards, prisoners or the doctor be killed because of the director’s vendetta against one man. Beros was still giving instructions, mainly more embellishment of what he had already told them. 

Ril slipped back into the shadowed part of the corridor, listening for the sound of the group bringing Rogers to the sick bay. There was only the noise of a game temporarily disrupted. He walked back toward the rec room a short distance and waited for his two compatriots. The two men turned the corner, their weapons ready, but when they saw him, they visibly relaxed. Ril didn’t wait for explanations; he fired quickly, not even giving them time to register surprise. He dragged both men into the shadows and then continued back to where the administrator was waiting in ambush. 

Beros’ pistol was aimed directly at his head until the administrator realized who it was in front of him. “Are they coming yet?” 

“No, sir,” Ril answered. “I only saw Blake and Jes.” 

“You wait in the corridor just behind me,” Beros said, pointing. “I want to take twelve-sixteen myself. I should have killed him when you brought him back.” His eyes bored into Ril’s. “You should have killed him up there in the mountains.” 

“I wasn’t given orders to, sir,” Ril answered, glad that he hadn’t been given such an order, because even then, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to carry it out. 

“Go on. Only help if I call for you, otherwise I want to burn him myself.”

Ril nodded and moved down the corridor, but he only went far enough to be out of sight of the administrator. He still had a clear view of most of the corridor where the doctor, Rogers and everyone else would be coming—unarmed. He waiting in the shadows, listening behind him also, making sure no one came upon him unaware. 

Finally, he heard the sound of approaching people, among them, Rogers. Dr. Beros continued to stay out of sight. 

Rogers, with Dr. Burrows, and two privileged prisoners, including the tall one who had been coaching one of the teams, came into view. They stopped short when the administrator stepped out of the shadows. 

Dr. Beros laughed, obviously realizing the implication of the fact that all of Rogers’ companions were still with him. The administrator taunted the small group and Dr. Burrows looked surprised. Ril guessed that the prisoner had not tried to contact the doctor, although why Dr. Beros would feel Rogers would do so was beyond his comprehension. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” Dr. Burrows asked. 

“Don’t play stupid,” Beros snapped. “I overheard these two plotting,” he added, pointing to Barney and Buck. “They were going to mutiny during the game. I had them watched. Somehow they got word to you, too, Doctor.” 

Burrows stared hard at Rogers, who simply shrugged, then at the tall black man, Barney, who made no move, nor did he say anything. 

Beros smiled. “Maybe you didn’t know, but I believe you would have aided these troublemakers if you had.” 

“You are paranoid, Administrator,” the doctor said, moving slowly toward Beros. “Give me the pistol.” His voice was coaxing and soothing, but it seemed to have scant effect on Beros, who turned the pistol from the terran and toward the doctor. 

The administrator menaced the doctor with his pistol and Ril saw the disappointed look on Rogers’ face turned to alarm, tinged with anger. The prisoner took a step forward and declared in a decisive voice, “I am Captain William Anthony Rogers, United States Air Force, 529043909. When captured, my primary duty is to escape; my secondary duty is to maintain my honor and integrity, never divulging anything that would give advantage to the enemy.” 

To Ril it sounded like a litany, and the guard wondered fleetingly what a United States Air Force was. Rogers had told him he was in the Directorate on Earth. Then Ril saw what Rogers was doing. Dr. Beros’ pistol turned back toward the prisoner and Rogers leaped to one side, away from his companions. Then he kicked out with one foot, knocking the administrator’s gun arm up. The laser scored a dark line along the ceiling and Dr. Beros swore luridly. Rogers next stepped toward the administrator in an effort to grab the pistol, but the time in prison, plus the garox and the recent incident in the rec room, had taken its toll. 

The prisoner managed to get enough grip to throw Beros off balance, causing him to stumble, but that was all. With a growl, the administrator jerked away from the terran and swung his arm, knocking Rogers away from him. Beros then shoved the prisoner against the wall. Barney and the doctor moved forward but stopped when the administrator threatened them with his pistol. “You have no idea who will be first, but I suspect that if you all came at me, I could burn every one of you before you got this gun away from me.” Beros moved to a position where he could keep an eye on the other three people while he dealt with the terran. 

“I should have killed you when you were brought back. I should have killed you when you were first brought in by Garrott, but I didn’t.” He paused and motioned Barney and the others back even more. Then he turned back to Rogers. “But I am going to kill you now, twelve-sixteen. And I am going to kill you slowly.” 

Rogers didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment. “Go for it, Beros. Seems death by laser would be a cleaner death anyway.” 

“Maybe, prisoner, but it will be an agonizing death all the same,” Beros said and then he fired. The laser shot to one side, only grazing the terran’s arm, causing him to cry out in pain and grasp his burned arm. 

“I did say slowly,” Beros laughed and aimed again. 

Ril could not let this happen. Rogers gazed intently at the administrator, and Ril got the impression of an impending attack. But he knew that no matter how fast the prisoner moved, he couldn’t move faster than laser fire. Ril fired his pistol, aiming above the administrator’s head. 

Beros looked shocked, and tried to make out Ril in the shadows. At that moment, Rogers launched himself at the administrator, hitting Beros at the waist with the weight of his entire body, propelling him backwards. Both men hit the ground hard, Beros with a sickening thud. As Barney and the doctor rushed to the two men on the cave floor, Rogers rolled off the administrator and sat up. 

“Are you all right?” Burrows asked. 

“Yes, except for a raging headache and one helluva burn,” he said, rubbing his forehead. He looked at Beros still and quiet on the ground. “His headache is worse, though, I bet.” 

Burrows checked the administrator. “He’s dead.” 

Ril stepped out of the shadows as the doctor made his pronouncement. He was stunned. Looking at the prisoner, though, he could see that Rogers was even more shocked than he was. 

“What?” Buck cried out, incredulous. Then he saw the growing pool of blood spreading out under Beros’ body. “I really wasn’t trying to kill him.” He looked up at Ril and then at Burrows. Killing was something that Buck had hoped to avoid, wanting only a quick takeover. 

“I know,” Ril said quietly. 

Buck gazed again at the guard. He nodded, paused a moment and then said, “Thanks for saving me, by the way.” 

Burrows finished his examination and then sat back, gazing hard at Buck. “Was he telling the truth?” 

“Yes, he was, Doc.” He took a deep breath. “The day I totally submit to this kind of imprisonment, slavery, whatever you want to call it, is the day I die. I simply couldn’t live with this and deep down inside, I suspect that most of the rest of the prisoners feel the same way.” 

“What was that you were talking about? A United States Air Force?” Burrows asked. 

Buck laughed softly. “Way back when I was a citizen of a now dead country, one of the greatest on Earth, I was in the Air Force, a military organization. And we were taught that it was our duty to always strive to escape if taken captive.” Buck gazed intently at Dr. Burrows. “I forgot a time or two, but I have always considered myself a prisoner of war here.” He looked at Ril, who offered his outstretched hand. He took it and Ril helped him up. “You knew?” 

“About the mutiny?” Ril asked. At Buck’s nod, he continued. “Yes, I did. The administrator took about six of us into his confidence. For some reason he didn’t suspect me of anything other than staunch loyalty to the company. Maybe he didn’t think the guards could have anti-company sympathies.” Up until recently, I didn’t think I could either.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Anyway, he told us about the proposed insurrection during the tournament. And I would guess that some of those other senior guards are going to start wondering and come investigate soon.” 

Buck felt the throbbing in his arm, but ignored it. “I know. Now the real fun begins.” 

Ril nodded, suspecting that Rogers was understating the situation tremendously.


	33. Chapter 33

“There are two connected but separate cell blocks,” Ril pointed out. “How do you plan to keep control?” he asked. 

“First we need the administrator’s access key card,” Buck said, gazing meaningfully at Beros’ body. Burrows nodded and dug into the dead man’s pocket, pulling out the asked for item. Buck again addressed the guard. “And that last question is loaded, uh . . . what is your designation, by the way?” 

“I am Ril. My guard rank is captain.” 

“Uh, Captain, to be honest with you, I haven’t been able to work out everything, because just getting the first part done was going to be tenuous enough. However, during my roaming days, I saw canisters of sleep gas in the storage area.” 

Ril saw the implications immediately. “That would give you time to figure out some plan of action for the time after you take over.” 

“Yeah, and also keep the prisoners from taking it out on the guards and administrative staff.” 

“What do you have in mind when they wake up?” Burrows said, taking up the questioning from where Ril left off. 

“Guards and unruly prisoners stay in cells until they promise to be good to each other,” Barney suggested. He looked at Buck, who just nodded. “Everyone would sign a promise not to hurt anyone else.” 

“The cells idea was what I had in my mind,” Buck said. “But the contract is an excellent beginning. If we need to, we can use a few trusted people to keep the peace. Set up a sort of law enforcement or judicial agency for those who can’t keep their promises.” 

“What about the company?” Ril asked. 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Buck said with a grin. “But we’d better get that gas or all our plans are going out the proverbial window.” 

Burrows looked quizzically at Buck. “You really didn’t have much in the way of plans, did you?” 

Buck laughed and then sobered quickly. “No, I didn’t. I figured that once we got some control of this place, we’d wing it from there. I’m sorry, even though I knew eventually that my shipmates would find me, I couldn’t just sit and wait for it to happen. And I can guess what Beros would have done if they had waltzed in here and demanded my release.” He turned to Barney. “I appreciate you trusting me. I agonized over what this would mean to you if we had failed, but I had to try.” 

Barney nodded. “I know. And I’m glad. But we must do something. We have not succeeded yet.” 

To Buck’s ear Barney sounded more decisive than he had in the past week. “Yeah.” He paused and gazed at Ril and then the doctor. The other privileged looked from one man to another like a spectator at a tennis match. Buck took a deep breath. “I guess I need to ask if you two are with us in this little coup. If not, then will you stay back and not interfere?” 

“I am in a bit of a quandary,” Burrows said. “As I suppose the captain is, too. But if you will accept me as an impartial observer, someone not actively helping, but not hindering then I would like to stay with you.” 

Ril nodded. “I trust you and will let you know when my conscience will not allow me to help you anymore. That is the most I can promise.” 

“Fair enough,” Buck answered. “You two will be our advisors.” He motioned toward Beros’ body. “Doc, I think we need to get him to sick bay. I don’t think it would be wise to leave his body here in the middle of the corridor.”

“I will do it and then meet you in the munitions supply room,” Barney said.

As the group headed down the corridor to the supply area, Buck looked up toward the cave overhang that he had traveled so much. So much in so short a time, he thought. But there were also times when his imprisonment had seemed like an eternity. Eternity in hell. Barney easily carried the body of the administrator, turning toward the sick bay, Dr. Burrows right behind him. Buck felt the throbbing in his arm renewing in intensity and the nervousness that preceded the timing of his next dose of garox, but he pushed both distractions aside. There was only the goal of freedom before him. 

Two guards were patrolling the corridors and Buck wasted no time. With the confiscated laser he had taken off Beros’ body, Buck turned the setting to stun and shot. They sank to the ground. He started to push the access card into the door slot, but Ril stopped him. 

“No, I’ll do it. Places like this you also need a password and I don’t know the administrator’s password.” 

Buck stepped aside and Ril stuck his card into the slot. He punched in his personal code and then stood in front of an ident viewer. The door slid open and Buck started forward. Again, Ril stopped him. 

“Captain Rogers, I don’t think that such exist here, but I have heard of the Arator Company using heat sensor plates in sensitive areas of their mines. I’ll get the canisters. When all is said and done, the codes can be changed.”

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary, but this kind of failsafe will help to prevent disgruntled prisoners from getting into the weapons cache,” Buck said, grateful for Ril’s support. “Some impartial observer you turned out to be,” he added wryly. Ril just grinned over his shoulder. 

As the guard was getting the canisters, Barney and Dr. Burrows joined him. Ril came out of the storage area with a canister under each arm, as well as several laser pistols stuck in his waistband. He handed a pistol to each person. “Do you think there is need to send this to both cell blocks?” he asked. 

“I would prefer to do the recreation room first and then show the remaining guards our handiwork, but I am afraid someone might take it out on prisoners.” 

Ril nodded. “Possibility is there. It will be hard work controlling both cell blocks.” 

“How may empty cells are there, Ril?” Buck asked. 

“I believe there are about twenty in Block Two and half as many in Block One. I can give you a more accurate number when I check the stats in the administration offices.” 

“Two is where most of the non-human prisoners reside, right?”

Ril nodded. “Right.” 

“About how many guards are on duty?”

“Now that we are on rest schedule, about a dozen,” Ril replied.

“With the gas, we take care of Block One, Administration and the rec room,” Buck said. “I want to go down to Block Two myself.” 

“Alone?” 

“You are all going to be busy putting Block One guards into cells,” Buck said. “If they aren’t expecting anyone down in the second cellblock, then it should be a piece of cake.” Buck rubbed his hands. They were trembling. 

“Time for your next dose?” Dr. Burrows asked. 

“Soon, but not now.” 

“Soon as in before you go down to Block Two, not after.” Burrows had a look that Buck wasn’t going to argue with. The doctor was probably right anyway, as much as he hated to admit it. 

Ril broke the tension of the moment. “I will get the gas filter masks and meet you in sick bay,” he said to Buck and the others. 

Buck nodded and the group followed Dr. Burrows. By the time Buck had received his dosage, Ril had come into the room, a satchel of masks in his arms. He handed each man a mask. “Let’s get down to ops,” he said. “And distribute this gas. The quicker we do that, the less chance of anyone getting hurt.” 

“I am going to take care of this burn,” Burrows said. “Garox enables quick healing, but not that quick.” 

“One advantage, twenty-six disadvantages,” Buck said sarcastically. “No time. We have been very lucky so far. Few guards, most people still in the rec room, oblivious, and no deaths other than the administrator. I don’t want to push that luck.” He turned to Ril. “Lead the way.” 

They only saw a few guards on the way to the operations center, all of which were stunned before they could even cry out. The canisters were hooked into the ventilation system leading to all parts of the mines except for Cell Block Two. 

“You ready?” 

Buck nodded. “Yeah.” He gazed meaningfully at the small group. Very small group, he thought. “Only put into cells the guards and staff you think will cause problems.” They nodded. “And I would put anyone with access to communications in a cell, too. We don’t want Arator to know before we want them to.” 

“We can’t keep them in the dark forever,” Burrows pointed out soberly. 

Buck smiled. “Yeah, I know, but I would like to see just how long we can outwit them. At least a couple of days, if we can.” He pondered a quick minute. “If any of the computer whiz kids are willing to work with us, I want all the codes changed so that only a few people have access to the administrative offices.” 

“All right, Captain,” Ril said. 

Buck looked askance at him. It was the second time Ril had referred to him by his rank. With a mental shrug, Buck got back to the business at hand. “By the way, same thing goes for the prisoners. Anyone who will cause trouble, keep ‘em in their cells.” 

Barney nodded and then said, “I think I should go with you, Coach.”

“No, there are so few of us, you are needed up here. I will go down the same way I did when I got Hawk and Tigerman out.” He grinned. “I’ll just borrow a uniform.” He quickly found one the right size and changed. “Give me a few minutes to get there and then send the gas out. This needs to be done before the game is over.” 

“Be careful,” Barney said. 

“I will,” Buck repeated, this time using a thumb’s up signal. He stuck one laser pistol in its holster and kept the other one at ready. A hand-held communicator went into his pocket, then he turned and headed for the other cell block. With the uniform on, Buck was not challenged and all of the guards he met were quickly rendered unconscious. Only once did he meet with any resistance and that was at the entrance of the cellblock. Beros’ card got him in, but the guard at the door challenged him, demanding a password. Buck felt the heat of the guard’s laser, but fortunately not the burn. He finally caught the guard with his pistol and watched him slide to the ground in satisfaction. Buck stayed alert, however, checking the bend in each corridor, the contents of each cell. 

At the guard’s station, Buck was not surprised to see no one there. He listened carefully, watched the two other corridors leading away, but saw no evidence of anyone. Sitting down at the computer console, Buck checked the vid screens and saw only cells with sleeping prisoners. 

He sighed, having hoped for a quiet take-over. There had to be at least two other guards out there. Then he spotted one near the end of the corridor leading to the loading dock. That one could be easily gone by the time he got there. Buck spotted another one, sneaking toward his position in the shadows. Quickly, Buck found Tigerman’s cell and was not surprised to see the Rrilling standing at his cell door gazing out in anticipation. The dark eyes looked upward at the vid camera and Buck would have sworn that he knew he was watching him. Studying the controls Buck found one that would allow him to communicate with various parts of the cellblock, as well as unlock the cell doors. “Tigerman,” he said, hopefully just loud enough for the felinoid to hear him. “Your cell is unlocked. Be careful; there are guards prowling around.” 

Tigerman uncannily looked directly into his eyes and then nodded, opening his cell door and cautiously stepping out. 

Glancing at the monitors again, Buck saw other watchful prisoners, but he also saw one of the guards very close to his position. He heard a light tread and ducked behind a console as a laser blast lanced out above his head. Rolling under the console, Buck dashed to the opposite end of the control room, firing off a shot of his own. A soft thud told him he’d scored, and he doubled back to check the guard out and confiscate his weapon. Buck headed down the corridor to the tiny cell where he had lived with Tigerman for a few days and was nearly jerked off his feet by something that felt like a steel pylon. 

Buck found himself flat on his back on the floor, gasping for air and gazing up into the grinning face of Tigerman. At least he thought the Rrilling was grinning. “Hey, it’s me, Buck!” 

Tigerman laughed softly. “I know.” 

“Well, we’d better be careful or we’ll have the company of at least one guard,” Buck said as Tigerman helped him up. 

Tigerman just pointed. On the floor were two guards, lying together in a heap. Buck looked back at Tigerman in astonishment. The felinoid simply grinned all the more. “No more, I think.”

“Let’s shove all of them in your cell and then find out.” 

Tigerman laughed, the sound almost a cross between a purr and a growl. “See how they like it,” he said tersely. 

Buck laughed with him. A check of the area revealed no more guards. Several of the prisoners, human as well as non-human were awake, gazing at him in open curiosity, hopeful. He pulled out the communicator. “Ril, Barney? What’s up?” 

“The gas has been sent out and except for one or two guards who had the foresight to have masks, it’s been a peaceful takeover. We’re just getting some of the known hot heads and recalcitrants in cells while the gas disipates,” Ril answered. “Going to have a bunch of people waking up soon.”

“Hopefully, I’ll have some help for you,” Buck replied. 

“Good. We’re going to have a lot of questions to answer when some of the people wake up,” Ril said. 

Buck shut off the communicator and he and Tigerman headed for the cell block communications center. Studying the console, Buck quickly opened the cell block 2 communicator and began speaking into it. “Fellow inmates,” he began. “This is Captain Buck Rogers, formerly known as number twelve-sixteen. We are currently in control of the cell block. Steps are being taken to get control of the other cell block.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Be aware, however, this will be an orderly takeover. Those who riot, cause injury to other beings, whether fellow prisoners or guards will be quickly dealt with.” Buck sat back and listened. There were distant cheers, some shouting for liberation. 

Nodding to Tigerman, he began down the cell block, stopping in front of each cell. The question was the same, “Can you refrain from violence and revenge?” From most he got quick agreement and Buck opened their cell doors. Tigerman disapproved of several and Buck trusted his judgment, leaving the men in their cells. When all were assembled in the mess area, he addressed them again. 

“Friends, you are free, you have the means to start over again….” 

“What about the company?” asked one, a Direllexian, whose large luminous eyes hinted of distrust. 

“Can we leave the mines, live on the surface?” 

“What about the guards?” 

“Can we go home?” 

Buck held up his hand. “The company doesn’t know about this yet and as soon as we have Cell Block One secure, you can leave. The surface is beautiful and very fertile.” He paused. “Any guards who want to remain will be welcome to do so. There will be no revenge.” 

“I want to go home,” a small furry creature, one no larger than Twiki repeated. 

“So do I,” Buck replied quickly, but with great feeling. “But that will come a bit later.” He smiled. “I think I have an angle on that. But right now, let’s go help them in Block One and we can then work all this out.”


	34. Chapter 34

The small crowd followed Buck to the other section of the caves. “Ril,” he called out on the communicator. “The gas dissipated enough for us to come in?” 

“Yes, Captain,” came the answer. 

Buck turned to the group behind him. “We are going to put some of the less reputable guards in cells along with anyone who wants a private war or a bit of revenge on their tormentors. There are some guards and administrative personnel in the other cellblock who are helping us, but don’t assume that any awake guard is a friendly. All I can tell you is to be careful. Make sure you keep your weapons on stun. We don’t want any bloodshed if we can help it.” 

Buck keyed the door open and they entered the main cellblock. He, Tigerman, Ril and Barney split up the group from cell block two and oversaw them as the drugged guards in Cell Block One were checked. They unlocked the doors of those prisoners that Ril and Barney felt were good risks. Buck smiled when he thought of the surprise that awaited most of those he had worked and suffered side by side with for the past horribly long months.

When they entered the recreation room, they found a sleeping crowd of huge proportions. Buck had known that there were a great number of people in the large cavern when the game began, but with them sprawled all over the floors and seats, it seemed as though they were dealing with a crowd large enough to fill Wrigley Stadium. “Okay, gang, we have a lot of people to check and only a little time in which to do it. We’d better get cracking. Take any weapons, even the smallest pen knife and lay them in the middle of the cavern. If there is anyone known to cause trouble, take him to a cell to cool off.” 

Quickly the men went from guard to guard. Buck was pleased to note that very few of the participants and spectators had weapons on them. As the first of the players stirred, Buck was relieved and surprised at how smoothly everything had gone thus far. But it was far from over, he thought. He, Ril and Barney, along with others they felt could be trusted from both cell-blocks, waited strategically for everyone to come to full wakefulness. Once the process began, it didn’t take long. The players and other guards, and administrators who had been watching, looked around in puzzlement. Unarmed, Buck walked to the middle of the court. Ril and Barney stood at his back. They both had several laser pistols. Dr. Burrows stood at his side and Tigerman was a few paces away, looking menacing. 

“For those who don’t know me, I’m Captain Buck Rogers, Earth Directorate, executive officer on board the exploratory ship, Searcher. Some of you have known me by number, others have known me as Coach.” He smiled softly. “Right now, with the help of my colleagues here, I am the man in charge.” 

There were angry shouts and muttering. 

“Now, I am going to give you all some ground rules. If you abide by them, we’ll all get along quite well together.” He didn’t wait to hear what those watching him were saying. “First of all, everyone will treat everyone else with respect, prisoner and staff alike. No retaliation, no harassment. If you have a disagreement with anyone, come to any one of us that you trust and we’ll see about working it out. We have a chance to start over again, a chance for freedom. Let’s make the most of it.” He paused for effect. “Anyone who wants to go to the surface and try their luck living off the land can do so immediately. Any staff members who want to stay in the employ of the Arator Company are welcome to do so. There will be ships to take you out of here in probably three or four days.” Again Buck smiled. “I figure that’s about how long it will take them to figure out what happened here,” he said. “All gems already mined belong to the Arator Company. Anything picked up in the mines belongs to the finder, but there will be no cellenite used to blow gems, at least not for a while. For those who wish to stay, there will be a provisional government formed within a day or two. All suggestions will be considered.” He paused and gazed at all the watchers. 

“Where’s the administrator?” the guard, Kris, demanded. 

“Unfortunately….” Buck began, but didn’t get to finish. 

“Unfortunately, he fell and hit his head,” Burrow said. “I declared him dead two hours ago.” 

“You killed him!” another guard shouted at Buck. Tigerman snarled, his hands balling into fists. 

Buck thought about his answer. It really didn’t matter what he said, someone would argue it and there would be anger and chaos. He gestured to Ril, who handed him a laser. Buck held it casually, point down, but still letting everyone know of his determination. “When all is said and done, those who wish to investigate the administrator’s death may do so. Right now, for those who long for a new life, for independence, we need to concentrate on that.” He paused. “And those who hinder that effort will be put in cells until they can be shipped off world.” The last was said decisively, in a tone that would brook no argument. He turned so he could look at everyone in the room. “In other words, there is no way in hell that I will let anyone put me back in chains ever again.” There was some clapping at that pronouncement. “All weapons have been confiscated and storage areas secure. In a short time any of you will be free to go to your own rooms, to the surface, or almost anywhere in the mines provided that you do not interfere with the new operation of this settlement.” 

He turned to his companions. “I hate to put this on you, but I think these men need to be kept here until we can make sure none of them can communicate with the company,” Buck said. “We need to change the ident locks on the communications equipment.” He paused in quick thought. “And I need to do a general announcement for the whole mine. I believe there may be some prisoners wondering what’s going on.” 

“I agree with you,” Ril said. “But don’t go alone this time.” 

Smiling, Buck nodded. “Yes, but we have more muscle now.” 

Ril looked puzzled for a moment then he, too, smiled. “Barney, Tigerman, a few other prisoners.” He shook his head. “Ex-prisoners, rather. Probably you need to take Dr. Burrows, too.” 

One day later, Buck was pleased to see most of the prisoners and staff eating breakfast together at makeshift tables in the rec room. There had been several fights, some potentially severe, between guards and prisoners, some between just prisoners, but swift and decisive action prevented more than the little bit of bloodshed that had occurred. Tigerman had knocked a few heads together and the combatants had spent enough time in cells to cool their ardor. Some still had to be carefully watched and a few were still in cells. About two-dozen prisoners had opted to go to the surface, wanting to spend their first night of freedom in the forest. Buck had gladly let them take whatever they needed, short of laser pistols, to set up their own camps. He had only hoped that there were no vicious animals out there. The surveys had shown nothing very aggressive, only those predators that kept the local herbivorous population down, shy, elusive creatures, but he and Dr. Burrows had given each of the would-be settlers a warning, anyway. You never could tell. About half of the guards had put in for off-planet transfers, but had promised to wait patiently until the spaceport was available. Only a few of the guards had refused to make such a commitment and had to be confined.

Volunteers had spent the day loading the cargo containers with already gathered rough-cut gems. After they had finished, there appeared to be just about enough for another day’s shipment. Some former forerunners volunteered to go back into the mines to gather more. The longer they could hold off the Arator Company, the better, and most of the prisoners and sympathetic guards realized that fact. 

Buck sat back with his coffee substitute and sighed. “Barney, you take care of operations,” Buck instructed. “I need to go through Dr. Beros’ papers and see if there is anything there that will help us.” Seeing Barney’s hesitation, his almost panicked expression, he added, “You will do fine, but I need Ril part of the time to help make sense of the administrator’s office. Get Doctor Burrows to help you if need to. And delegate. There’s some good men here.” Barney sighed and nodded as Buck got up to leave. Buck grinned and gave the former slave a thumb’s up. Barney returned the signal. 

Buck headed directly toward Beros’ office, which had remained sealed since the takeover. He sent Ril to communications for anything that might have come from the company or any other off-planet source in the past day. Using Beros’ access card, Buck went into the office, cringing at the memories of his visits to this place. Then he shrugged them off, took everything in at a glance and began looking through files. 

After a short while, it became apparent to the terran that graft was a very big part of the acquisition of prisoners. About half were actual sentenced criminals, convicted of crimes ranging from petty theft to murder. But the other half were pretty much political prisoners, many who had been on the losing end of a large scale struggle or, like he and Hawk, those who had made powerful enemies with very long memories and excellently filled pocket books. Some, like Barney and Tigerman, were simply sales of slaves who had outlived their usefulness to their owners. 

According to memos that had been placed in the administrator’s file, the company had only been paid the minimal amount to take him and Hawk. However, Beros had been getting payments for each of them for as long as they both remained alive. Hawk’s stipends to the mine had ended over a month previously. Buck looked at more notes and ground his teeth together in anger. Beros was also getting a payment to make his life even more miserable than it had already been. 

And the Human Rights organization was behind it. LeeGrand and his buddies, probably with Kormand pulling the strings from his cell on Cronis. He made copies of the papers. Buck looked over some other memos that were lying on Beros’ desk and felt his curiosity increasing. There were lots of references to the eastern continent, mostly complaints. He dug into the former administrator’s computer files, thankful once more that Beros had left his password in “remember” mode. He read and then realized the implications of the communiqués. Smiling as the full revelation hit him, Buck read on. Then he began to laugh. He was still laughing when Ril walked into the office a short time later.

===============================

Hawk stared at the screen in frustration and then reached for the ship’s auxiliary power cell controls. 

“I’m getting complaints from the passengers,” Kollin said. “And being trained guards they could feasibly take over. I would really like to avoid bloodshed if possible.” 

“As would I,” Hawk responded. “But they will be too busy hanging on to their seats to try to take over.” He paused. “Tell them that.” 

Kollin nodded and spoke into his communicator. Then he checked his safety harness when he saw Hawk reaching for the artificial gravity controls. He couldn’t help but admire the tenacity of the birdman. 

Hawk put the craft into a roll and then fired the auxiliary engines. The communicator blinked a signal from the huge ship that was now pursuing them. 

“Do you want me to see what they have to say?” Kollin asked. 

“You may do whatever you wish with the communicator. But I will not give up,” Hawk replied evenly but firmly. 

Kollin pressed a switch. “….you have been identified as a hijacked vessel. Surrender or face damage from our tractor beams. By order of the Galactic Council, you must surrender.” 

Hawk paused a moment. This was a Galactic Council vessel? Fortune couldn’t be tendering him such good luck. “Ask for identification,” he ordered the human. 

Kollin did so. “Vessel 22409, this is the Earth Directorate Galactic Council vessel, _Searcher_.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Hawk almost sagged in relief. Now he even recognized the voice. It was Devlin. He reached for the communications toggle switch on his side of the cockpit. “_Searcher_, this is Hawk.” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

There was a stunned silence on the other ship. “Hawk?” a voice asked. It was the admiral. “Hawk? Is that really you?” 

“Yes, Admiral, it is I, Hawk. I would be most grateful if you would take care of this vessel and its passengers after I have landed in the bay.” 

“Of course.” There was a pause and then the inevitable and painful question. “Is Buck with you?” 

“No, Admiral,” he said, his voice soft. “Buck made my escape possible, but he was unable to come with me. I promised to find you and then rescue him and those with him.” 

“Yes. Come aboard immediately, Hawk,” Asimov said, the happiness in his voice palpable. “We can use the tractor beam and bring you in if you would like. I’m sure you are tired.” 

Hawk thought for the briefest of seconds. Although quite proud of his piloting skills, the Admiral was right. He was tired. “That would be good, Admiral. Thank you.” He sighed in relief, relaxing for the first time in what seemed an eternity. 

Kollin gazed at him in awe. “How did you do that?” 

“What?” Hawk asked as he felt the jerk and tug of the larger ship’s tractor beam. 

“Manage to find your own ship?” 

“It was so willed by Make Make,” Hawk said and then smiled. “And perhaps by the human’s God as well.” 

“And what a ship!” Kollin added fervently. “How did you manage a spot on that one?” 

“A long and difficult story,” Hawk answered without elaborating. Kollin didn’t ask any more and Hawk was glad. He only wished to be back aboard the Searcher, change into his clothing of rank and arrange for Buck’s rescue. 

================================== 

Wilma reached for the communications panel at almost the same instant that she and Peter flew through the stargate. Her excitement was almost more than she could contain. They had narrowed down Buck and Hawk’s whereabouts to three possible planets, probably one, if their two colleagues had been sent to the worst possible hellhole imaginable. 

As soon as they had cleared the stargate, Wilma began speaking, “_Searcher_, this is Red Dog. Come in, _Searcher_.” ____

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

The admiral answered. “Welcome back, Wilma. Good to have you back home.” 

“Good to be back, Admiral,” she replied. “And we have good news.” 

“So do we. Come on board.” 

Wilma was a bit puzzled, but still too happy to ponder the admiral’s news. She and Peter eased into the hangar bay, sliding past an unknown shuttle. The symbols seemed a bit familiar though. 

“Arator Company,” Peter said from beside her. His voice held a note of concern. 

Wilma simply stared; too stunned to say anything. What could it mean? she wondered. Had they brought back Hawk and Buck? Had they brought news? Good or bad. Then she mentally shook herself. Very unlikely considering what she knew of the mining company. 

As they reached the hangar door, though, Wilma stopped short. Walking toward her was Hawk. It was almost as though he had never been gone. He was pulling on his gauntlets as he always did before a mission, his face serious and focused on whatever was ahead. A sudden insight told Wilma that the focus was probably her. He looked up, saw her staring at him and smiled softly, reassuringly. 

Buck! she thought. Buck was not with him. Then Wilma felt ashamed of herself. Here was Hawk, returned after who knows what kind of horrifying experience and all she could think about was Buck. “Oh, Hawk, I . . . I’m….” She could say no more; she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “I was so worried about you.” 

Hawk held her for a moment and then he stepped back to look closely into her eyes. “Buck is not with me.” 

Fear squeezed her heart and threatened to close her throat. “He isn’t….?” She couldn’t say it. 

“Buck was alive when I left him. He enabled me to escape, but was not able to get all the way to the spaceport.” Hawk took a deep breath. “Humans in the mines have a tendency to pick up a parasite. Buck was too ill to complete the journey, but I have every assurance that he was treated after recapture.” He paused. “After all, the more workers there are, the more crillite the company is able to get,” he added sarcastically. 

Wilma couldn’t tell if she should be relieved or even more anxious. He was still alive when Hawk had left. All they needed to do was go and rescue him. “Where, Hawk?” she whispered. 

“Bosk,” he replied. “And he had a message.” He paused a moment. “He said he was fine and would be waiting for your arrival.” Hawk smiled. “The admiral is changing course and we are going to Bosk even as we speak.” 

“Thank you, Hawk,” she said gratefully, answering his smile with a soft one of her own. That was something she would expect Buck to say. 

“Buck also told me to hurry. He had already missed about forty dates with you.” 

Now that really did sound like Buck, Wilma thought with a smile.


	35. Chapter 35

Buck sat in the administrator’s conference room at a table that comfortably held about a dozen people. There were half again that many. Besides Barney, Ril, Dr. Burrows and himself, there were the prisoners and guards who had been the most helpful in keeping the peace. They had formed the liaison between the Arator employees and the prisoners. Of all the people who had been in the mines, there were only a couple dozen who still had to be incarcerated. Buck attributed it to the work of the people before him. 

“I came across some things with Captain Mentua’s help that might be of great benefit to those who call this hemisphere home.” Everyone seemed to perk up his ears. Buck continued. “It would seem that the eastern hemisphere is becoming more interested in expansion than in the paltry amount of graft money the Arator Company has been paying them over the years.” He paused. “The Bosk Free Government has rescinded Arator’s exclusivity clause to this continent and is giving settlement rights to those who will improve the land on this hemisphere.” Buck paused again for a moment to let that bit of information sink in. “It appears from Dr. Beros’ notes and communiqués, the company was planning on building top side resort and horticulture facilities and then laying claim to the continent as a free and self-governing country. I daresay that would allow them to follow the letter of the vague eastern continent ruling and still allow virtually no access to this continent by outsiders.” 

One of the former guards fidgeted. 

“What’s on your mind, Kurtz?” Buck asked. 

“How does that affect us?” 

Smiling, Buck replied smugly. “We beat Arator at their own game.” 

Barney’s eyes lit up in comprehension. Dr. Burrows sat quietly but Buck knew he had figured it out. 

“We claim this as our own country,” Barney said. 

“Exactly,” Buck concurred. 

“Men are already on the surface farming and hunting and building cabins,” Barney added. 

“And if we allow the eastern continent expansion rights to parts of this continent they should be happy to acknowledge our sovereignty,” Buck said.  
“What do we call this new country then?” Burrows asked. 

“I leave that to you, gentlemen,” Buck replied. “But we had better come up with some kind of name, charter or by-laws and leader framework soon. I think the company is suspicious.” 

“Perhaps we should vote on a name,” Barney suggested. “And at least a temporary leader, then we do the other things.” 

“Go for it,” Buck said. 

“Perhaps a choice of several names that we can vote on?” Ril suggested, suddenly excited. “Same with the leader.”

“Don’t make it too complicated,” Buck warned. “You can vote on an interim leadership quickly and come up with some kind of working constitution and anything that needs to be amended or added can be done later.” 

Everyone nodded. And that was how, slightly less than one day later, Buck found himself the president, at least temporarily, of the continent/country of New United States. Barney was his vice president and the instigator of the name. Buck had protested at first, arguing that it wasn’t a group of states, but Barney argued saying that they were from all over the galaxy and there was an underground state, and an above ground state. Buck had then shut up, and while still embarrassed, he was pleased that in some small way, his home country lived on. Still, Buck had won on the point of putting ‘new’ in front of the name. Nothing could ever be ‘his’ United States, nor would he want it to be. But now these people had a new chance to make something better. 

Now he had to push this through the Bosk Free Republic on the eastern continent and then through the Galactic Council on Cronis. All the while keeping the Arator Company off their backs. 

A technician set up the communications with the Bosk Free Government and Buck sat down in front of the communicator. Until the other party agreed to vid communications, this was audio only. “President Korellian, this is….” 

He was cut off by a terse, clipped voice. “I am not sure what tactic Dr. Beros is using now, but our constitutional revision has been ratified and is irrevocable.” 

Buck took a deep breath, willing the man on the other end to listen to him. “President, if you will allow me. I am Captain William Buck Rogers, president of the New United States. I would like to discuss terms of recognition and emigration between our two continents.” 

There was only the sound of electronic background noise for a couple of moments. The technician and Barney grinned at each other and Buck had to work hard to keep from doing the same thing. Evidently Beros had made life miserable for the eastern continent politicos while this was going on. If the former administrator was as ‘in-your-face’ with Korrelian as he was with the prisoners then it was no wonder the president was so testy. Finally Buck spoke again, “President Korrelian, are you still there?” 

“Yes, I am. May I ask if you represent the Arator Company?” 

“No, sir. In fact, we are planning on vacating Arator interests as soon as it is feasibly possible. Some of our citizens have already build dwellings on the surface and are harvesting local fruits and vegetables. More are planning to go to the surface even today. Anything that belongs to the Arator Company will be left for them to pick up, if they so choose.” Buck paused to take another deep breath. “In fact, the governing body of New United States is willing to work out a contract with the Arator Company, provided, of course, that they are willing to accept the sovereignty of this continent’s government.” 

“New United States?” Korrelian asked, his voice holding a puzzled note. 

“Yes, sir. By the provisions stated in the revised planetary charter, this group of individuals has met the conditions of legally forming an independent and self-governing body and claiming the land of this continent.” Buck paused again. “We want to work very closely with your government, Mr. President. We are eager for those on your continent who wish to, to settle this new and verdant land.” 

The vid screen came to life and Buck found himself looking into the dark brown eyes of his eastern continent counterpart. The man studied him for a moment even as Buck did the same. “While what you are saying sounds very promising, Captain Rogers, may I assume that you are a prisoner?” The expression showed a slight amount of reserved doubt. “And that your rank, like your government, could simply be shallow graspings for a way out of imprisonment?” 

The man in the screen gazed hard at him as though trying to discern his thoughts. The eyes seemed hard, but Buck could see a glint of something else there—hope? Otherwise Korrelian’s face was totally impassive. Buck could hear the murmuring of voices behind him, but without taking his eyes off of the man in the screen, he cut the protests off with an off-screen gesture. It seemed at present the eastern continent leader was neither believing nor disbelieving him. 

“President Korrelian, I don’t blame you for your reticence. This has been a great change for us as well.” Understatement, Buck thought before continuing. “One of our techs is sending out the framework of our constitution and the conditions of recognition.” He leaned forward. “I am exactly who I say I am. My commission is real, granted by the first United States government and honored by Earth Directorate. I am, or at least was, at my kidnapping, a senior exo on board the Earth exploration ship _Searcher_. You can contact Cronis to verify. In fact, I plan on contacting Cronis after I am finished speaking with you.” He smiled. “I believe you put some qualifier in your new planetary charter by-laws about galactic recognition of any continental claims?” __

_ __ _

__

Korrelian nodded, a half smile on his lips. “Yes, there is.” He looked at someone off screen, then turned back to Buck. “Captain Rogers, or should I say President?” 

Buck winced mentally. “I am more comfortable with plain Buck, however this is a fairly formal setting so whichever title you prefer.” 

Still smiling, Korrelian leaned back. “Captain, your claim as to your identity has been verified by voice print as well as vid I.D. Your initial claim to rights of sovereignty has to be decided by our governing council.” He paused. “Your rights of recognition by galactic entities will be tested very soon. One ship just entered our solar system and another is on its way. Both have asked for contact with Arator Company representatives.” 

“Can you give us identity, Mr. President?” Buck asked. “Our sensors aren’t very good at that range.” He didn’t doubt that one was the Draconian vessel that the Arator Company had sent a communiqué about requesting the release of Tigerman. 

Korrelian’s smile was more open now, almost conspiratorial. “They will be contacting you, Captain.” Seeing Buck’s chagrined look, he continued. “You have succeeded in overthrowing one of the most powerful companies in the galaxy and in setting up a fledgling government, surely you can talk ships from two galactic entities into recognizing your claim. I will let you know a good time for a meeting.” And he closed the connection. 

“Not very helpful, was he?” Ril asked. 

“Helpful enough,” Buck said. “Actually I think he gave more than I could have expected. He’s covered himself if we should fall on our faces.”

Ril nodded. “I wonder what two planets they are from.”

“One’s undoubtedly from Draconia, since that was who the Arator communiqué said was coming for their man,” Buck replied, glancing at Tigerman. The felinoid only grunted non-commitally. “I can’t even venture a guess on the second one, but I have to go and get a cup of coffee or whatever that stuff is that substitutes for it, or I’ll fall asleep talking to them. You and Barney know the drill, you deal with them until I get back.” 

“Sure thing, Mr. President,” Ril said with a grin. 

Buck grimaced as he left the room. “And don’t forget to put in the call to Cronis, too,” he called over his shoulder. Ril’s good-natured laugh followed him out of the room. 

Buck wondered about the second ship as he walked into the mess room. Who could they represent? Could Hawk have finally succeeded? It had been so long that he had worried that something had happened to his friend, but could the second ship be the _Searcher_ or some representative vessel of Cronis? The thought made him forget to add anything to his drink to temper its bitter taste. He turned back toward the communications center, suddenly awake and totally hopeful. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

============================== 

Ardala looked smugly at the purplish, blue-green planet swinging below her. She would soon accomplish her mission, small as it might be to others, independent of Kane or anyone else. “Call the Arator Company,” she ordered. 

Within a minute the communications tech looked up in puzzlement. “Your Highness, they claim the Arator Company is no longer in charge. They say we are dealing with the New United States, a free and sovereign nation.”  
“New United States?” Ardala asked, equally puzzled. Where had she heard that one? Buck Rogers! That was the empire he had come from. Where in the galaxy had a faraway planet like Bosk come up with that? 

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

“Tell them I demand to speak with their leader,” she said tersely, moving in front of the vid screen. 

Another minute and the communication tech looked up again. “Your Highness, they are locating their leader. The second in command is available in the meantime.” 

Ardala sighed. “Very well. I will give my greetings.” 

The tech nodded and turned back to his console. Soon Ardala was gazing at a very imposing black man. She wondered how he could have survived in the mines, figuring him to be taller than her former slave, Pantherman. 

“Your Highness, it is an honor,” he said with a slight bow. 

“To whom am I speaking?” she asked, haughtily. 

“Barney Brock, Highness. I am the vice president of New United States.” 

“It was my understanding that the Arator Company owns the mines,” Ardala pointed out. She thought it rather ironic that the head of the company had no idea that one of his mines was no longer a part of his organization. Curiosity tugged at her and demanded that she continue talking to this former slave in order to find out more information. Besides, Tigerman was down there and he was the reason she had traipsed halfway across the galaxy. 

“The Arator Company does own the mining equipment and some mineral rights, but the uh, workers have formed their own government.” He paused. “The eastern continental government allowed for it.” 

Ardala smiled coldly. “In other words, the slaves revolted.” 

“There are many company employees who are part of our new government.” 

Someone out of view caught the vice president’s eye. Brock nodded and then turned to Ardala again. “My apologies, Princess. Our president is here to speak with you.” 

“About time,” Ardala muttered. Suddenly, in front of her was Buck Rogers. She gasped in surprise before she could totally compose herself.


	36. Chapter 36

Buck appeared tired and worn, but he grinned and said, “Welcome to New United States, Princess. What brings you all the way out here?” Ardala couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment. 

For his part, Buck couldn’t believe that he was sitting here talking to Ardala. He gazed at her closely to see if she had any foreknowledge of his presence here or any ulterior motives, but he could see none. She had acted totally surprised. He knew that someone was coming to get Tigerman, but that Ardala would come personally surprised him. Then again, he thought, nothing that Ardala did surprised him. 

“I am here to demand the return of my slave, Tigerman,” she finally said. 

From behind him, Buck heard the surprised whuff of the Rrilling. While Tigerman had known that he was going to be liberated, apparently he was just as surprised as Buck that his princess would do so personally. Buck was about to tell her that he knew her ship was coming but he paused, a sudden idea occurring to him. “For a moment, Princess, I had begun to wonder if you were here to negotiate a land use deal with our new government.” 

“Land use?” 

“Sure. This mine can’t be the only place where crillite is found. The geologic surveys give evidence of other deposits.” Buck could see the wheels turning. 

Ardala thought her father would be very impressed if she came back with a deal for something as precious and costly as crillite. “I would like to talk further on this matter in person, Captain.” 

“Of course, Princess. But you do realize that in order to consummate a deal with our government, the Draconian Empire has to recognize our fledgling government.”

She laughed. “Of course.” She paused a beat. “And you haven’t changed much in the past two years, Buck Rogers. You are still sly and devious.” 

“Thanks,” he replied brightly. 

“Now I would like to see my . . . to see Tigerman.” 

Before anyone could do or say anything, the felinoid was standing behind the terran. He had been in the same room all along, Ardala realized. Tigerman appeared eager to see her but there was a wariness she had not seen before. She hoped his newfound freedom had not gone to his head. Ardala looked at Buck. “I wish an audience with both of you.” 

“Of course, Princess. One hour. Surface.” 

“How primitive is the surface?”

“Ardala, we are talking about a mining town. But I had in mind a very nice reception area in the spaceport.” 

“No, aboard my ship,” she said decisively. It didn’t hurt to let people know who was superior occasionally. 

But Buck shook his head. “While I would love to meet aboard your yacht, I’m afraid it’s out of the question, Your Highness. We’re still hammering out details here and I don’t think it would be good for the president of a fledgling country to take off on the third day of office.” Understatement, Buck thought, thinking of the big blow up that would occur when the Arator Company showed up. It was imperative that he try to cement a commitment from the eastern continent before they did. 

“Hmm,” Ardala said thoughtfully. “Very well. The spaceport in one hour.” She cut the communications and pondered. The captain said another ship was apparently on a course for Bosk. The Arator Company or someone else? Regardless, it was in the best interest of the Empire to cement come kind of deal. Turning to the captain, she ordered, “Ready the shuttle.” As he bowed, she headed toward her quarters to change into something appropriate. 

An hour later, she was sitting in a very nicely furnished office looking across a shiny-topped wooden desk where Buck sat. He was dressed in something that appeared to be a uniform, although stripped of any kind of ornamentation. She figured that it was some kind of modified Arator Company clothing, considering how she suspected he had come to be on this planet. 

“Would you like something to drink, Princess?” he asked. 

Tigerman stood behind the desk. He was apparently serving as Buck’s bodyguard for the moment. “Yes, I would, Buck. Or should I say, Mr. President?” 

Buck grinned as he got up and she felt her breath quicken for a second. “Let’s stay somewhat informal, Ardala. It’s only temporary anyway.” He poured drinks for them both and handed her one. 

“All right, Buck, what kind of deal can you offer the Draconian Empire?” 

“Mineral rights on certain parts of New United States.” 

“But not the existing mine?” Ardala ventured. 

“Not ours to give, really. But you’d have first rights to it if Arator chooses not to negotiate with us.” Buck smiled. “Minus the equipment, of course. That also belongs to Arator and we don’t want anyone saying that we weren’t entirely fair about all this.” He took a sip of his drink, then put it down. He gazed hard at her. “And Princess, please understand, the mine will not be run like a prison or slave labor camp. The miners will be paid wages and they will be treated humanely. There is a ready-made work force here for the hiring.” He paused. “There are many prisoners who have chosen to stay here. Most, in fact.” 

“Even after their treatment here? And after they have been freed?” Ardala asked, curious. 

Buck sighed. “Yeah, there is nothing for them anywhere else.” He gulped his drink, and then smiled softly. He realized that he could be talking about himself, as well as the others. “One of Arator’s tricks was to use garox to cure a parasitic condition that some miners, mainly forerunners, tend to pick up.” 

Ardala’s eyes widened in surprise. “The cure is worse than the sickness,” she replied, then she felt the shock of sudden suspicion. “Were you a forerunner, Buck?” 

He poured a small amount of wine in his glass then he looked up with a smile. He could kick himself for revealing so much of his inner feelings. “Ah, Ardala, shall we not keep some semblances of past illusion between us?” 

She returned his smile. He was right. She didn’t really want a confirmation of what she was thinking. “Beside payment for rights, what else does this new empire get from Draconia?” 

“Recognition. I am sure Cronis will recognize our claim, along with Earth, but if another, very powerful galactic entity, recognizes this continent’s right of sovereignty, then no one else can dispute it.” 

Ardala nodded. “Done!” She turned to Tigerman. “And now that I have chased all over the galaxy for you, don’t tell me you want to stay here.”

Tigerman looked at Buck, who nodded. “Sounds to me like the princess rather values your services, my friend. Decision’s yours. You’re a free man.” 

Tigerman looked back at Ardala and smiled toothily. “Go with you.” 

Buck laid his hand on Tigerman’s arm. “Please understand, Princess, I am glad you personally came to get Tigerman. However, if you had been a few days earlier, you would have undoubtedly been greeted by the news of a mine accident and his body. I read some of the late administrator’s notes. The company doesn’t like anyone leaving their company’s employ, even the guards.” 

Ardala, leaned back in surprise, then her eyes narrowed. “I will definitely put in a bid for mineral rights for this mine. I would imagine that they would prefer to leave something behind that is going to keep them in court for years.”

Buck chuckled at her vehemence. He didn’t doubt that she’d do exactly that. “By the way, Tigerman is too valuable a friend to have ended up dead in this hole. He kept me alive in here after Hawk left. I can never repay that debt.” 

“Debt paid. You make me free.”

“Least I could do, pal.”

“Everything is settled, we really can get informal,” she said. “You wouldn’t consider abdicating this position of yours and coming back to Draconia with me, would you? Or are you mated with that insufferable Colonel Deering?” 

“No, I am not mated. No, she is not insufferable and no, I wouldn’t consider,” he said quickly. “But thanks for the offer,” he added with a quick grin to show he harbored no ill feelings. 

“I didn’t think you would.”  


Buck saw slight sadness in Ardala’s eyes, but none of the anger or petulance of before. She really had changed. 

The communications console beeped and Ril’s face appeared before him. “Just wanted to let you know that representatives from Earth and the Galactic Council have arrived. Barney talked them into recognizing our fledgling government, but they are coming to see you to discuss details.” 

“Great!” Buck said. “Same with the Draconian Empire. You two get on the horn with the Bosk Free Government and tell them of recent developments. It’s in their own best interests to back us. Also, after you contact Korrelian, contact Arator and let them know that I will get a hold of them and advise them of their terms of renewal.” 

“Sure thing, Captain.” And Ril signed off. 

“Sorry, Ardala. Do you mind company?” 

Ardala smiled and shook her head. Sipping her drink she then said, “No, I would be interested in seeing how the leader of a brand new empire handles dignitaries he doesn’t know.” 

Buck laughed and refilled her wine glass. The Arator Company really did supply good vintage, he thought. 

The door slid open and a former prisoner, who was now serving as an aide, stepped in. “The Earth delegation is here, Captain,” the young man said. 

“Send them in, please,” Buck replied. He stood near his desk in anticipation, extremely glad that Barney and Ril had taken care of the preliminaries. 

It had not surprised him that Ril, like Dr. Burrows, had chosen to stay on Bosk. To a lesser degree, it had not surprised him that Barney had decided to stay as well. Barney had nothing on Neckar, except slavery. Here he was useful and important and most of all, free. Most of the prisoners had opted to stay as well, many for the reason he had hinted to Ardala. Surprisingly, about half of the guards had wanted to make a new life here. It was the administrative staff that had, almost as a body, put in for transfer off the planet. Other than Dr. Burrows, only a couple of others had wanted to stay. Buck brought his mind back to the present when the door slid open. 

In the doorway stood Hawk. “I should have known you would have done just fine without me,” he quipped. 

Even though he had suspected _Searcher_ was the other ship, Buck stood stunned for a moment. Then he was across the room in an instant, taking his friend in a fierce bear hug that spoke volumes of friendship and relief. And behind Hawk, tears in her eyes, stood Wilma. Buck pulled back and as Hawk stood to one side, she flung herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, enveloping her in his arms, not wanting to ever let her go. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I thought we would never find you,” she murmured.

“We have a guest,” he said with a soft smile. It was difficult to contain his emotions. But one thing he had to do, guest or not. Leaning forward, Buck soundly kissed Wilma, long and deep, something he had only dreamed about for the past months. Finally they were together. Finally. But for how long, a tiny voice at the back of his mind asked. 

Wilma pulled back with a sigh and then gazed deeply into his eyes. “Buck Rogers, don’t you ever leave me again,” she said in mock sternness. 

While still holding her hand, Buck suddenly felt the currents of fear. Fear of the future. He realized that in some ways, he had already left her. Not of his own volition, but left her regardless. He turned to greet Admiral Asimov and Dr. Goodfellow, trying hard to squelch the troubled feeling that seemed to be growing inside.


End file.
